Possible Meeting
by AnnaDruvez
Summary: Ba'al tells SG-1 what he really thinks of their chances in their 'war' with the Goa'uld. Rated 'T' for truth. - Rating bumped to M: bad language, blood, mentions of torture.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**

_I really **do** wish that Ba'al was mine... Sadly, neither he nor the other characters belong to me._

**Note**

_This bit of dialogue came about as I was wondering: What would have happened, if their first real meeting with Ba'al wasn't when he tortured O'Neill? (I don't count Summit, since there was no **direct** interaction.) What if he met them while Apophis was still alive? Before they met the Tok'ra, or any of the other races? What if he explained things from a warlord's point of view? _

_I will admit, I read a story - I can't remember who it was by - that had Ba'al's human family die in a plague. He was then offered a symbiote by the ever-apologetic Tok'ra when they arrived too late to save his people. My Ba'al's first interaction with them was far worse. (At least, from my point of view.) I'll clean that piece up and possibly post it later._

**_Edit: Corrected an error - Carter is a Major at this point in time._**

* * *

**A****n Alternate ****Meeting ****With ****SG****1**

He eyed SG-1 with a frown. "Let me be certain that I understand you. You are here, out in the galaxy, looking for allies to destroy my species." He gave a snort of amused derision. "Good luck."

Jack eyed him. "All right. I suppose I'll bite. What's so funny?"

Ba'al lounged on his throne and closed his eyes for a moment in internal debate. "Babati, have seats brought in for my guests."

Jack stared in shock at this. A Goa'uld caring about their comfort? Nah, there had to be another explanation. Probably just wanted their undivided attention... That sounded about right.

The First Prime bowed. "As you wish, my lord."

Several chairs were brought in and, much to SG-1's amazement, various refreshments. Ba'al accepted a glass of wine from his Lo'taur and eyed them. "To understand – to _truly_ understand – you have to know more about the galaxy than you currently do. Let me tell you a story...

* * *

Once upon a time – I've been told this is the traditional opening – there was a race known as the Lanteans. You know them as the ones who built the Stargate. They were just as arrogant as the Goa'uld, though they hid it better. They messed with the universe in ways that would frighten you: They terraformed worlds, created black holes and seeded life where there was none.

No, I'm not talking about transplanting your ancestors to other worlds. They _created_ your ancestors in a bizarre bit of hubris. They also created several others, including my own. Oops, I suppose... And they did all that right after they nearly wiped themselves out with a plague. I have it on high authority that they created that plague themselves.

At any rate, they were one of four so-called Great Races. The others showed propensities for varying skills. Like the Lanteans, the Nox were given to the development of the mind. Unlike the Lanteans, the Nox did not build weapons. They were – and are – pacifists. Good luck getting anything but riddles out of them if you ever meet.

The third Race, the Furlings, disappeared at around the same time that the Lanteans did.

The fourth Race, the Asgard, retreated to their home galaxy. I believe you call it the Ida galaxy? At any rate, you are not going to be able to reach them for a very long time, I would imagine. Though they do still like to drop by on occasion. Just trust me on one thing – avoid Loki. He likes to mess with primitive genetics in a similar fashion to Nirti.

So, that was that as far as their Alliance went.

In the absence of the first four space-faring races, others rose into power. The Asgard were supposedly keeping an eye on things – such as any new players on the galactic map. But their patrols were so far between that we had developed space travel and moved to dozens of worlds before they even noticed us. For some reason, they don't like us. We _are _aggressive, supercilious, and vicious creatures. That probably has something to do with it.

Destroying us would mean wiping out too many planets for their tastes, so they proposed a treaty. The so _very_ imaginatively named Protected Planets Treaty. We do not trespass on certain worlds and they leave us alone. It doesn't bother us much, since we're having too much fun trying to eliminate our dearest friends and allies. We're almost as bad as humans in that way. I sometimes wonder if we learned it from you, or you learned it from us... I suppose it's pointless to speculate.

Also having risen from the primordial muck, you might say, was the Tollan. Not quite as pacifistic as the Nox, the Tollan are perfectly happy to ignore the rest of the Universe as long as they are safe. Their idea of providing help to primitive races is to tell them not to call again until they reach an acceptable level of evolution...

A threshold which we generally leave them alone at, if they reach it. Thereby making any Tollan aid a moot point.

Others have tried to reach that level. However, they are either like the Tollan – devoted only to themselves, the Nox – complete pacifists, or us – conquerors who 'steal' resources and technology from others. Those who don't fit those molds usually find a way to destroy themselves before they reach the point that they could be any assistance to you...

Oh, have you met the Tok'ra yet? You don't have to answer, as it doesn't really matter. Their queen, Egeria, was actually "once a Goa'uld, herself." Now, I don't mean that she's a former host. I mean that she is a parasitic entity that professes to behave in a more symbiotic manner.

I can't quite recall the name of her last known host. I suppose it's not important.

Egeria spawned an ideological split from the rest of the Goa'uld. Supposedly, she felt that the humans should have more choices and that the so-called symbiote should share the host's body equally with the host. It's all well and good, I suppose. I and my host are blended and are now one entity. I know that supposedly that is a Tok'ra ideal, but I find it works just as well if the host agrees with the Goa'uld methodology.

But, no, the Tok'ra are scavengers and spies. Unlike the Goa'uld, who at least wage war openly, the Tok'ra will take the coward's way. They will run and hide, then strike at your backs when you forget that they are there or believe them gone. A... reasonable tactic, if they did more than just sit on half the intelligence that they receive...

What they won't tell you is that they have just as high a regard for regular humans as we Goa'uld have. If a planet or a group of humans were to die, then that's fine. After all, humans breed like rats and it just means that there are fewer to become Goa'uld. Acceptable losses.

They believe themselves just as far above you as we believe ourselves. However, they will lie to you about it. They'll call you young, reckless, unprepared. They'll tell you that they're keeping their technology from you for your own good. Never mind that it is technology that they stole from other, more advanced races. Never mind that sharing their knowledge might actually achieve their goals... It would mean that the other races would no longer have to "respect" them for having such impressive knowledge.

Yes, you can substitute 'fear' for 'respect' in that sentence and still be accurate.

They will use you for their experiments. They will smile and pat you on the head like a good dog when you pass information along to them. They will call you friend or ally. And then they will smile inwardly when your people are slaughtered instead of theirs in a battle that they have caused.

Don't believe me? I was born a Tok'ra. I simply chose to not be a hypocrite when I saw their behavior for myself. My host was in complete agreement.

Why no, Major Carter, I was not named Ba'al originally. I once had a different name. My host went by another name, as well. We have both voluntarily taken the name Ba'al to represent our collective will.

You look surprised.

My host's people are dead. There is no point in naming him by their system. In his mind, he died the same day the Tok'ra showed their true colors. My people are hypocrites, liars and fools. I reject the name that they would have had me use.

I - _we_ are simply Ba'al...

Barring the technologically or mentally advanced, you have various communities of farmers or hunter-gatherers that are just trying to fly below the radar. That is the Tau'ri term, is it not?

So, yes, you could unite all the primitive races of the galaxy and beat us back. You could kill us all. You would lose over half of your forces and the presumably advanced races would simply stand back and watch as you nearly wiped yourself out in the attempt. Then, one of them would take our place.

So, I say it again: Good luck in finding the help you seek. I, personally, think you would be better off picking a System Lord and pledging your loyalty. But, that's just me.

* * *

He sipped his drink. "You are perfectly welcome to stay on board for a day or two, if you would like to get to know me and my people from a different perspective. Your friend, Teal'c, only truly knows Apophis' ways, after all, and I always found that brute to be more interested in his own pleasures than in the actual administration and care of his pledged peoples. You might find that you actually _like_ me. Miracles do happen."

He turned to Sam. "If you ask nicely, I might even have my First Prime - Babati - take you on a tour of the engine room. Full explanations for any questions you want to ask that don't endanger the security of my vessel."

He smiled at Daniel. "I'll be happy to let you look at and perhaps even copy a portion of my language and historical databases. I understand that you're interested in the topic."

He frowned at Jack and Teal'c. "I'm not certain what entertainments I could offer you. Have you, O'Neill, ever learned to fly an Udajeet or a Tel'tak? Would you like to? Teal'c, I suppose can wander and spar with my warriors or kel'no'reem in the gardens. Perhaps make use of the ship's harem." He shrugged. "So, are you interested?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**

_Don't own. Would like to._

**_Edit: Every time I think I found all the mistakes... /sigh_**

* * *

**Part Two**

The room thrummed with life, even when the engines themselves were mostly dormant. Sam knew that they were being kept on a 'warm standby' so that the ship was ready to go at less than a moment's notice. She ran an appreciative hand across one console and saw the smile on the face of the First Prime accompanying her. "What?"

Babati chuckled. "Like you, I enjoy the feel of the engines. They make our home seem alive, do they not, Major Carter?"

She nodded, then looked around the massive room. It was far unlike the engine rooms of other Goa'uld warships. It was built to be airy and spacious, with multiple levels of catwalks providing access to important components. The engineers themselves were conversing in small groups as they adjusted various settings and performed maintenance tasks. "It's a beautiful ship, with an unusual layout."

Babati nodded. "Yes. Our Lord has always said that comfortable surroundings make it easier for the mind to work."

She leaned her hip against one console and eyed him. "He values your minds?"

Babati beamed proudly at her. "He does. He says that not even one such as He, no matter how long lived or powerful, can know and anticipate everything. And, sometimes, emotion clouds His thoughts and would keep Him from achieving his goals. All are free to speak to Him and offer suggestions without fear of punishment – as long as respect is shown."

She blinked, unaccustomed to that kind of... wisdom in a Goa'uld. "He educates you and sets you up as advisers."

Babati moved to allow a technician to pass by, watching as the Jaffa opened a panel and altered the configuration of some crystals. "He does. 'Starving minds create a starving kingdom.'"

She frowned in thought. "Is that something he said to you?"

The Jaffa led the way towards one of the technicians that was finally free from others asking for input on their projects. "Yes, it is. This is Abiditan, our Elder Engine Technician. Abi, this is Samantha Carter of the Tau'ri. Her title is 'Major.'"

Abiditan was old, but not as old as he looked at first glance. His short-cropped hair was graying, though there were still visible traces of ebony. Callouses and a small burn marred his hands. Worry and care had etched lines into his face and lingered in his eyes. It was plain to see from his easy smile, however, that he was content in his work. "It is an honor to meet you, Major. Welcome to my domain."

"Your domain?" She couldn't keep the note of incredulity out of her voice.

Abi just laughed. "If Lord Ba'al wishes to come contest the claim, then He is welcome to. And, when His ship breaks down in the midst of uncharted lands, I will be laughing in the dungeons even as He begs me to find and repair the problem in _my_ engine."

Sam couldn't help her chuckle. She'd heard of - and met a few - engineers like him. "So, the ship is his but the engine is yours."

Abi nodded, a twinkle in his eye. "Indeed. How may I help you, Major?"

Babati interjected. "Our Lord would like any of her questions to be answered, as long as security is not compromised."

Abi looked her over, searching her face before taking in her BDUs. He held out his hands and she hesitantly gave him her own. He examined her callouses and the scars of burns from old electrical mishaps. It took her a second to realize that he was seeing her experience in the same way that she'd read his. "You'll do. What would you wish to know?"

* * *

Daniel was having the time of his life. A Lo'taur by the name of Sidu had escorted him to a large hall and directed him to a table. No sooner had he sat down, than the console in front of him burst to life. It took him all of three seconds to realize that it was asking for search parameters. Sidu had shown him the basic navigation and then left him to his work.

It was... a treasure trove, not to be too cliched.

The library was delineated by world, each identified by its Gate address. It made sense, he supposed, as a Gate address would usually be valid longer than whatever name the natives called their planets. Names, like the rest of language, had the tendency to change with time. But the entries...

They were organized by subject and then by era. Almost every fifth word was linked to a different passage that fully explained the reference and offered alternate meanings or compared it to similar concepts on other worlds. Each article was annotated with the author's name or names (some were written or updated to by Ba'al, he noticed) and the date that the information was collected. There was a revisions archive that allowed previous versions to be read...

He found – to his surprise – over a hundred _massive_ updates to the Goa'uld dictionaries alone. When he looked at other languages, there were a similar number of entries. Some dated back over ten thousand years and bore the names of researchers he had thought were myth. There was even an index for languages and histories of worlds that no longer existed.

He was in research heaven.

* * *

Jack was not really in heaven, but he was nowhere near hell. Nidnatum, a large and dark Jaffa that almost made Teal'c look small and pale, was tirelessly drilling him on the various controls and interfaces of a Tel'tak. He was being shown everything from how to work the head to how to bypass systems in order to restore life support and navigation in an emergency. His protests that that was Carter's job were brushed aside with one simple comment: "And what happens when this 'Carter' is wounded or unconscious?"

Given how thorough the mind-numbing explanations were, he wasn't looking forward to the test ("_Test?"_) that he'd been promised for the next day. He just hoped he passed, because he really wanted to fly one of these.

* * *

Teal'c wandered the gardens in thought, pondering the difference between Apophis and Ba'al. The air filtration systems on Apophis' ship had been ugly pools of foul smelling water, bubbling away as they made the air safe to breathe. Not so, on Ba'al's ship.

Flora of all varieties flourished under lamps designed to simulate sunlight. They were planted in dark, rich soil. Massive ducts and fans high overhead served to move air into and out of the enormous room, creating a fresh breeze between the columns supporting the ceiling. Stone-paved paths led to spots designed for kel'no'reem, or to tables and benches situated for gatherings. Gardeners moved back and forth, tending to their work with quiet cheer.

It was, indeed, far different.

* * *

At day's end, they were shown to their quarters. There were four bedrooms off of a central sitting area, with a bathroom connected to each bedchamber. The rooms were tastefully decorated in a surprisingly understated way. It was nowhere near what any of them would have expected from a Goa'uld.

None of them were interested in the furnishings, though.

Conversation ran back and forth as each tried to impress on the other just how much they had learned. Sam was convinced that she could – with time – have all the information needed to build a hyper drive just from speaking with this 'Abi' person. Teal'c simply stated that the gardens were 'quite lovely.' Daniel was asserting that he was fairly certain that everything but the meaning of life was hidden in the databanks.

They ignored Sam's muttered, "Forty-two."

Jack held up his hands. "Okay, campers. What else have we learned?"

Teal'c frowned. "The residents seem... happy."

Daniel nodded. "I know. I must have passed dozens of people on my way back here. None were even slightly hesitant when I greeted them. No one seems at all afraid."

Sam laughed. "The Chief Engineer reminds me of some of the stories I used to hear about the World War II engineers. You know, salty enough to dry out a cow at fifty paces? Abi seemed very confident in how much he was needed. He even said that Ba'al could challenge him for ownership of the engines if he wanted, but that he'd regret it."

Teal'c actually blinked. "Was the First Prime there?"

Sam met his eyes. "Not only was he right there... He was nodding in agreement."

Teal'c sat back and stared at the far wall for a moment. "This is... unsettling. I have not heard of any System Lord running his or her domain in such a manner."

"In all fairness, how many Jaffa from other territories have you spoken with?" At Teal'c's nod of concession, Daniel shrugged. "From a sociology standpoint, respected and valued people are usually more loyal than frightened ones. They're less likely to rebel and tend to fight harder for their masters, be they slaves or free men. Lack of morale was, historically, a major contributor to many revolutions... Maybe he learned from Ra's mistakes?"

Jack sighed. It could be prejudice from his experiences with Ra and Apophis, but he couldn't help feel that something was wrong. "Well, keep your eyes open. There has to be more going on."

* * *

Dinner on Ba'al's ship was a casual affair. Jaffa and Lo'taur lounged around the room, engaging in conversation. Ba'al entered and acknowledged the offered greetings with a nod, clearly not expecting anyone to leave their meal to attend him. Instead, he lounged on a plump pillow near SG-1, served himself, and asked how they were enjoying their stay.

O'Neill, to the others' chagrin, chose to shove both feet into his mouth with alacrity. "Oh, it's been just peachy. When do we get to the interrogation and torture?"

Ba'al's face whipped towards him in surprise, then his eyes flashed gold and narrowed in anger. For the first time, his voice reverberated in the alien lilt of a Goa'uld. "Has someone in my ranks threatened you?"

Daniel shook his head and tried to play peacemaker. "No, not at all. Jack is just... Well... From past experience, we kinda expect it..." He trailed off with a sheepish shrug.

Ba'al's intense gaze settled on him. "Who has injured you so?"

When Daniel finished giving him a summary of their past dealings with Ra and Apophis, Ba'al started fluently cursing in the Goa'uld dialect before branching off into a half dozen other languages. He was condemning the two, their progeny, and their ancestors for thousands of years in either direction. Daniel found it rather surreal to hear a Goa'uld sputtering out profanity in that alien tone. Some of the suggested actions were anatomically impossible for any species. Others were simply amusing to picture, even before the voice was added to it.

He had to fight to hide a smile as someone behind him quietly praised his lord's invective.

Sam was turning bright red, not understanding all of it but comprehending the implication of some of the more colorful phrases. Jack was gaping at him, clearly nonplussed at the aspersions cast on the other System Lords' character. Teal'c looked impressed and like he was taking mental notes for later use. Daniel just bit his lip as he pictured the same speech with Teal'c's flat delivery.

Babati, who had been sitting to the side, lightly touched his master's shoulder with a gently teasing smile. "My Lord, that is quite a diatribe. May we record it for posterity?"

Ba'al blinked at his First Prime for a moment, and Daniel was startled to realize that the anger was fading. The upset Goa'uld wasn't going to lash out for the apparent disrespect. Instead, he seemed almost grateful for the admonition. The System Lord sighed, closed his eyes, and visibly finished calming himself. His voice was once more human sounding and his eyes – which had been almost constantly glowing in his rage – faded back to their normal brown shade. He met Daniel's gaze with complete sincerity.

"There are some who should never be given the title of 'System Lord,' no matter what they supposedly did to earn it. Doctor Jackson, you have just – yet again – affirmed that those two brutes are amongst those ranks." The Goa'uld turned to O'Neill. "On behalf of my species, I apologize for their treatment of you and your companions."

"Um... Okay?" Jack's eyes were still a bit wide.

Sam had apparently recovered a bit and was fighting not to smile at the look on her CO's face. She glanced at Daniel and they both quickly looked away before they started laughing. Ba'al returned to their earlier topic of conversation. "I assume that you all enjoyed the entertainments provided? I understand that Nidna is looking forward to testing your memory of today's lesson, Colonel O'Neill. As I know what a taskmaster he is, I believe that you may consider that your 'interrogation and torture.'"

Jack looked a bit like he wanted to repeat some of Ba'al's earlier commentary. The System Lord seemed amused by his reaction, but moved his attention to Sam. "Abi believes that you are a most able student. Would you care to join him again?"

Sam's face lit up. "I would love to, if it's all right."

Ba'al nodded. "I would not offer if it were not acceptable. Babati may not stay with you, however." He nodded to Teal'c. "He has expressed an interest in sparring with you in the morning, if you are amenable?"

Teal'c nodded and Ba'al's smile widened. "Excellent. Doctor Jackson, did you have any difficulty with my database?"

Daniel's eyes glazed a bit. "Only that there's so much... I feel like I could spend forever learning all of it."

Ba'al chuckled. "It's my database and has been for a very long time. However, even I wouldn't claim to know everything it contains. Tell me, do your people have the ability to read data crystals?"

Sam nodded. "It's one of the technologies we've picked up along the way."

Ba'al sent her an approving glance. "Then I shall see to it that you are provided with some of the data when you choose to leave. Is there any particular section you would prefer, Doctor Jackson?"

"Daniel, please. And... I wouldn't know where to start. It's fascinating."

Ba'al gave a sad smile. "You sound like me, when I was a little younger than you. Very well, Daniel, I'll see if we can't weigh you down with enough data crystals to cause a shortage when you leave. It will surely take that many just to copy the languages."

It was Daniel's turn to gape. "But... we didn't... we have nothing for you..."

Ba'al cocked his head to one side, considering. "You don't? I do not, as we speak, have the pleasure of new conversation? My technicians aren't learning from your questions as surely as you learn from their answers? My gardeners are not overjoyed at seeing awe on the face of a visitor? At the very least, just having new faces to gaze upon is a delight." He eyes flickered briefly towards Sam. "Quite the delight."

The Goa'uld took a sip of his morning tea, politely ignoring Sam's blush. "If you must, then consider it a gift of good faith between our domains. Perhaps we may reach an accord that allows sharing of more information as time goes by."

Daniel nodded thoughtfully. "Any treaty of that type would have to go through the proper channels, but I can't see them ignoring your generosity."

Ba'al chuckled. "You flatter me. Languages are the least of what we have to offer each other."

Daniel leaned back and blinked as realization washed over him. "You're trying to sway us to your allegiance."

Ba'al gave a little smile and a nod. "Of course. I had thought that would be obvious. Your people have already destroyed one System Lord. As pathetic an administrator as he was, Ra was still an able general. What ruler wouldn't want you within his domain and, perhaps, fighting on his side?" He leaned in, smirking conspiratorially. "Tell me, is it working?"

It was Daniel's turn to gape at him.

Ba'al settled back and sipped his drink, eyes twinkling. He then turned to converse with Babati about the day's training schedule for the Jaffa.

* * *

_Wow. This just kept getting longer every time I started to edit it. I'm rather pleased._

_Thank you, my reviewers. I always enjoy hearing from you. Hanaty, pcpc19, encouragement is always welcome._

_By the way, Kalinysta is right. There is a bit of a resemblance to 'The Sun on the Horizon.' I hadn't read the story before posting the first chapter – I tend to stick to crossovers. I've read it (and the sequels) now and... They're well written. I'm not very fond of the incest mentioned, but it is in keeping with mythology and I would not – therefore – deem it inappropriate for the setting. (I see that fantasdancer has also mentioned the connection to capricesesh's story.)_

_For those who are interested, the names of the OCs are taken from a website entitled: "An Ancient Mesopotamian Onomastikon." It's nowhere near what I would call a historical website, but it does serve as a decent resource for those of us who don't want to spend all their time making up names. If you want the link, I'll be happy to send it to you. Just PM me._

_I make no guarantee of continuing this, but we'll see._

_By the way, do you have any idea how hard it is not to use the word 'eye' a dozen or so times every few paragraphs when writing Ba'al? He has the most expressive ones..._


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**

_Really? Again? Don't own. Wish I did._

**_Edit: Missed some scene breaks - oops._**

**Part Two (Continued)**

Jack only managed to spend half the day with Nidna. At least he'd managed to pass the blasted test on what he'd retained. Nidna had, however, realized quite quickly that he was overtiring and hadn't protested his leave taking. He retired to his quarters after lunch, sporting a splitting headache from the information overload. He settled on the bed for a nap.

It was less than a half an hour later when a quiet chime woke him. "Come in."

Ba'al, resplendent in dark olive robes and carrying a glass of something, strode in. "I am told that you are in pain."

He sat up, wincing as his head tried to fall off his neck. "Just a bit."

The Goa'uld moved closer and sat on the edge of the bed before holding out the frosty glass. "This is an extract of... I believe you call it willow bark? It contains a few other ingredients as well, but it is quite good for dealing with pain that is not suitable for other healing methods."

Jack eyed the glass with a frown. Willow bark... "Oh, aspirin." He took the glass and sipped, grimacing at the bitter taste. The coolness was welcome, though. "Thank you."

Ba'al nodded and stood to leave, pausing as he caught sight of Jack's wallet on the nearby table. It was open, exposing a picture. He leaned forward to inspect it, but didn't touch. "Is this your son?"

Jack fiddled with the drinking glass, his fingers drawing patterns in the condensation. "His name was Charlie."

Ba'al straightened and their eyes met. "Was... You have my condolences."

Jack nodded his head, not quite able to look at the man.. Goa'uld... man... whatever. He sipped the infusion again. "It was an accident. My weapon was improperly secured and he was playing with it."

He looked up and was surprised to see the understanding in Ba'al's face. "Whether an accident or caused by someone's deliberate action, the death of one's child is always painful. No matter how many centuries pass."

"You?"

"Before we blended, my wife bore five children. Two died of diseases, as was normal at the time..." He moved to sit back on the bed. When he'd done so earlier, it had felt like an intrusion on Jack's personal space. Now, it felt natural. "The other three... My people had begun working with bronze, perhaps just a century prior. We were relatively peaceful, for humans. We'd had a few skirmishes between neighboring city-states or occasional bands of raiders. That didn't matter when the Tok'ra and the Goa'uld began their battle in our airspace. A Tok'ra ship crashed on our world."

It was Ba'al's turn not to meet his gaze. The powerful man was picking at a piece of imaginary lint on his robes. "The crash killed my wife and children nearly instantly. It would have killed me... An almost larval symbiote found me and joined with my dying body in desperation. I was – am – his first and only host."

Jack blinked. "So... How much time have we spent talking to you, and how much time talking to him?"

Ba'al smiled a bit, recognizing and accepting the sidestep. Neither of them wanted to get too caught up in the emotions of their past. "Both, usually. We're in agreement on most things."

"Oh." Jack downed the last of the medicinal liquid. "It still hurts."

The Goa'uld smiled sadly, knowing that he didn't mean the headache. "It always will."

* * *

Sam was having the time of her life. Abi had pulled apart one of the relays and was showing her the circuits involved. She was sitting on the floor, her head maybe a foot from the panel, and far too involved in what she was seeing to notice the approaching footsteps. Then Abi spoke. "My Lord."

"Abi. I see Major Carter is engrossed in her studies."

Sam looked up to see Ba'al. He seemed amused, though there was a lingering sadness in his eyes that she couldn't place. "This is... amazing."

Ba'al smiled. "I am gladdened to see you enjoying the opportunity, Major. However, like me, the two of you missed lunch. Would you both care to join me?"

Abi nodded. "We'd be honored, My Lord."

The technician leaned down and reassembled the circuit almost faster than she could follow. Ba'al waited until it was done and then turned to lead the way out of the engine room. She caught up to walk next to him. "Thank you."

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, not quite sure whether her gratitude was for food or for the educational experience. Possibly both. "You're quite welcome. A starving body leads to irritability and an inability to process information, which leads to a starving mind."

She couldn't help the grin. "Which leads to a starving kingdom?"

He chuckled. "I see my Jaffa have been repeating my favorite sayings."

She nodded. "Yep."

He paused at a doorway and gestured her in with a slight bow. "In that case, let me prove that I am no hypocrite. Our meal awaits."

She also paused and looked at him. "How did you know that we skipped lunch if you did, too?"

"Don't you know? I am a God." Ba'al smirked and ignored Abi's snort, though his amused gaze invited her to share the joke. "I'm all knowing... And, Babati... tattled. That is the correct term?"

She laughed and nodded.

* * *

Teal'c watched the training Jaffa with great interest. Most were running through various forms with the staff weapon. A few were actually sparring with each other, and a minor Goa'uld by the name of Namzu was observing the bouts. The effeminate host had a healing device strapped to his hand in case of accidental injury.

Teal'c had never personally met Ra but – from Daniel's descriptions – the male was very similar in appearance. He was fine boned and graceful, with unblemished skin. His unbound hair flowed down his back, and a Goa'uld glyph for healer was hanging from a chain around his neck. His white linen skirt was embroidered with black and green symbols of health and well-being.

On Apophis' ship, he had to suffer through any injury received in training. Healing was only for the Goa'uld, and injury made the Jaffa stronger. Here, he was told that any injury to the guards might make them ineffective when needed... Apophis certainly didn't have dedicated healing staff.

It was a definite difference of philosophy.

* * *

Sidu had provided Daniel with a small device that allowed him to read anywhere on the ship. The data pad, as Sidu called it, would have fascinated Sam. It could access just about anything if the user had the correct credentials. Daniel was more interested in the information stored.

He was so wrapped up in what he was reading that he completely missed that he'd sat down to dinner with it still in front of him. Sam snickered lightly, and Teal'c's lips lifted in what passed for a smile. Ba'al smirked and took a bite of his lightly spiced meat.

Jack reminded himself not to ask what he was eating and rolled his eyes at his friend. "Daniel, I'm pretty sure that reading at the table is rude even here."

"Huh?" The archaeologist looked up, noticed everyone eying him and blushed. "Oh. Sorry. It's just I... Jack, there's so much to learn. Did you know...?"

The colonel cut him off. "I'm very sure that you will put all of it in your report. As I'm going to have to read all five hundred pages anyway, I'd rather avoid spoilers."

"I've never turned in a five hundred page report!"

"No, just thirty pages with four hundred and some of supplemental reading..."

Ba'al tilted his head towards Teal'c, ignoring the bickering between the two humans. "Spoilers?"

Teal'c gave the slight motion of eyebrow and shoulder that indicated he had no idea. Sam shook her head with a grin. "It's like if you were reading a piece of fiction and someone told you the ending."

The Goa'uld nodded. "I see." He held out a hand to Daniel. "May I?"

Daniel blinked as he was pulled from his argument. He passed over the data pad. Ba'al brought up a database for English, noted down the new meaning, created the correct annotation links and sealed it with his personal code. Daniel just observed this wide eyes. "Just like that?"

Ba'al nodded. "Just like that." He cleared his code and passed the interface back to Daniel. "Have you been enjoying yourself?"

Daniel nodded and then Jack's eyes suddenly widened. He checked his watch. "Hell!"

Both of Ba'al's eyebrows raised. "Is there a problem?"

"Our check-in is due in five minutes."

"Well, we wouldn't want to upset your superiors." Ba'al turned to his First Prime. "Take the Colonel down to the Stargate and dial the Tau'ri home world so that he may... perform his 'check-in.'"

Babati and Jack left the table and Sam smiled. "That easy?"

Ba'al shrugged. "I would be a poor host if I forced you to violate your safety protocols."

* * *

General Hammond's eyes bugged out slightly. "Colonel, you're telling me that this Goa'uld wants to be friends? Why don't I believe that?"

"Believe it or not, General. He's been letting Daniel dig through his archives. Sam has torn apart half his ship by now, if I had to give an estimate. T's been wandering all over and sparring with his Jaffa. I told him I had to check in with you and he didn't even bat an eyelash. He just sent me down to the Stargate with no arguments." Jack's snort came clearly across the radio link. "Hell, he found out I had a headache and personally brought me aspirin... Well, their version."

George exchanged a look with Major Davis. Neither one was buying this. "And he hasn't tried anything?"

"...He's flirted a little with Carter, but he hasn't pushed anything. Oh, and he's offered Daniel his entire language database if he can find enough data crystals to hold it."

George blinked. "You're serious."

"Yes, sir. He says he wants a treaty, or perhaps for Earth to swear allegiance, but he seems to be trying to court us as opposed to threatening. He's also been pretty upfront about it."

The general shook his head. "Allegiance isn't going to happen. A treaty isn't out of the question, but we'd have to work out the details."

"Shall I tell him that, Sir?"

He gave a decisive nod. "Do. I'll expect another call same time tomorrow. When can we expect you back?"

"Not sure. I suppose either when he gets tired of us, tries to kill us, or gives Daniel his pretty rocks."

"Keep us updated, Colonel."

"Yes, Sir."

The Stargate shut down and Hammond sighed. "I don't like this."

Davis looked up at him. "Yes, sir. SG-1 _never_ has an easy mission."

* * *

**Part Three**

SG-1 had been back on Earth for three days, having spent over a week with Ba'al. Daniel was embroiled in a custody battle with the 'legitimate' portion of the NID – they wanted the data crystals he'd brought back with him. Sam was buried in her labs trying to replicate some of what she'd learned with native technology. Teal'c was quiet, but that was just Teal'c.

Jack was having a hard time coming to terms with the idea of a Goa'uld as a loving parent. Every time he started to have a conversation with someone about Ba'al, he found himself remembering the expression on his face during their discussion. Jack knew that look, having seen it in the mirror more than once. It spoke of nights spent wondering, _'What if I had done something different?' _The loss wasn't faked.

He watched various airmen scurry past him as he moved down the hall. Some were carrying samples of bunting. Others were debating menu proposals. Jack was fairly certain that the System Lord could care less about bunting choices and that – as long as it was edible – food wasn't that big a deal. He hadn't seemed to be very choosy about what he ate while they were on his ship, at least.

Ba'al was going to be arriving the next day, to discuss treaty negotiations. Hammond was determined to provide him the same level of courtesy that SG-1 had received. He'd even gone so far as to gain permission to take him out and about on the surface. That permission was rarely given, and had taken Teal'c months to obtain. Siler had apparently been ordered to compile a list of possible places to visit.

He wandered into Sam's lab, hoping to drag her out for lunch. Of the two, Daniel was the hardest to get moving and he hoped to have Sam's help in the attempt. She was bent over plans for... something, so he picked up a random item. Normally, that would be enough to get her attention. She didn't want him to accidentally activate a bomb or something similar.

Today, it took four doohickeys, three clearings of his throat and a "What'cha doin'?" before she looked up.

"Oh! Sir... I was just working on this hyperspace wave generator."

"O-kay." He drew the syllables out a bit, not wanting her to know that he did understand at least part of that sentence. If she found out, he'd be sitting there for hours while she tried to explain the rest. "Have you considered lunch?"

Sam blinked at him. "But, I just got star..." She looked at the clock and deflated. "Oh. It's two."

"Yep. Are you going to come eat?"

She started packing away the half-complete plans. "I know it seems kinda silly, and that we've only been back for a few days, but I want to make sure that I've made some sort of progress."

"Oh?"

"Well, yes, Sir." She smiled. "Ba'al gave us so much information. I... I want him to know that we appreciate it and we're using it."

Jack shrugged. "Makes sense, I guess. Let's go get Daniel."

* * *

Daniel was buried in work when they walked in. He had the language database up and running, and was using it translate a dozen or so artifacts. Jack stopped in the door and looked at Sam. They shared an eye-roll and a smile as they heard Daniel muttering to himself in Egyptian.

The archaeologist was studiously ignoring the grumbling coming from his midsection. "Danny-boy, I see food in your near future."

He looked up, blinking as he was brought back to reality. "Oh. Hi. Am I missing something?"

"Lunch, Daniel. It's traditional."

Daniel blinked as his stomach let out it's most vigorous complaint yet. "Right... Jack, you have to see some of this..."

Jack held up his hand, then used it to pull his friend along. "While we eat, okay?"

* * *

The whoosh of the Stargate settled into the typical blue pool. Four Jaffa stepped out onto the ramp and stationed themselves as an honor guard – two at each side. Jack was actually slightly frightened to see Nidna there. He hoped that he wasn't going to have an impromptu quiz thrown at him sometime in the next few days.

Babati came through and surveyed the area for a moment, before moving a pace to his left. The First Prime's armor, like those of the other Jaffa, was polished to gleaming perfection. It was obvious that they were taking this visit seriously as a Matter of State. Jack winced when he realized that he'd actually capitalized it in his head. He surreptitiously tugged at the neck of his dress uniform.

"Jaffa, Kree!" Babati's command had them snapping even more to attention, and just in time. Ba'al appeared at the top of the ramp. As usual, he was impeccably groomed. He was wearing luxurious brown robes with small jewels sewn on them every inch or so. A pendant bearing his symbol rested on his chest. He gave the room an imperious glance before his face softened slightly into approval.

Jack supposed that Hammond's decorations hadn't gone to waste after all.

Two Lo'taur stepped through, carrying chests of what could only be Ba'al's clothing and toiletries. The Gate shut off behind them.

The Goa'uld glided down the ramp and his eyes flashed. His voice resonated in that familiar multi-tone. "General Hammond, it is a pleasure to visit your facility."

Hammond straightened. "Lord Ba'al, I hope our hospitality lives up to your expectations."

Ba'al smiled. "I try not to have expectations, General. That is the path to disappointment. Nonetheless, I'm sure whatever you have planned for my stay will be more than acceptable."

Hammond wasn't certain how to reply to this, but smiled. "Well, I imagine the trip wasn't terribly tiring but I'll have an airman escort you to your rooms so that you and your men can get settled in. We were planning a dinner this evening in your honor, if you would care to attend."

Ba'al's voice had settled back into the normal range of human speech, signaling that the pomp and circumstance was over in his opinion. "That sounds delightful."

* * *

At dinner, Hammond had tried his best to ensure that things would run smoothly. Ba'al was seated by the American ambassador, a man named Carl Woodson. To his left, Major Carter was happily dominating the conversation by explaining her progress on a hyper drive. General Hammond was trying to appear more interested in the actual science aspects than he was, since his guest seemed to be riveted.

That his questions also seemed to be slowly prompting Sam towards a breakthrough escaped no one, including Sam. She seemed gratified that he wasn't just handing her the answer. Maybe she saw it as some sort of confidence in her abilities? Or just enjoyed the puzzle? Jack wasn't sure. He usually preferred to just be told where he was making the mistake.

He had to admit that the way her face lit up when she figured it out was breathtaking.

Daniel joined the conversation, then, mentioning that he was able to translate a few tablets that he'd been having trouble with. Ba'al smiled at him. "Did you find anything interesting?"

Daniel looked a bit sheepish. "Not unless you want to know how many bags of rice it took to construct a home on P3X-714 about a hundred years ago?"

The System Lord blinked. "Well, I'm not familiar with the way you've named the planet, but you have me curious now."

"Well, a single family dwelling – consisting of roughly two to three rooms – seems to retail at around fifteen bags."

Ba'al nodded. "That's not bad. I remember mine went for twenty soft-tanned hides and a suit of bronze studded armor."

Daniel's jaw dropped. "Yours... I'm talking to..."

Ba'al chuckled. "Both of us, Daniel. You're talking to both of us. So, what would a comparable home retail for here on Earth?"

Daniel shook himself out of his shock. "Three rooms... um... Depending on where, I'd say about seventy thousand dollars, and twenty-five pounds of rice is about fifty dollars."

Ba'al did the mental calculations. "So, if our bags are approximately fifty pounds... Seven hundred bags." He looked surprised, then chuckled. "Not bad for ten thousand years of inflation, but quite a rise for... P3X-714?"

Daniel couldn't help his own laugh as he nodded.

* * *

Three days later, negotiations were going well. During the breaks, it wasn't uncommon to find Ba'al seated in Carter's lab either asking questions or offering ideas. As a result, more people stopped by in thinly-veiled attempts to get a good look at a Goa'uld. He took the attention with reasonable calm and no small amount of amusement.

At one point, Daniel stopped in to show Ba'al a Mesopotamian tablet that referenced him only to find half the science department vying for his attention. Hammond put his foot down at that point and only scientists that had genuine business dared visit when he was there.

Ba'al did stop by the archeology department as well. He was drawn into a discussion where they asked about his supposed magical powers. Ba'al's answer shocked them to the core. "Science is magic."

"What?"

He raised one eyebrow in amusement, then pointed to the microwave sitting off to the side. "You put your food in a box and press a button. In a flash of light, it's hot. What is that, if not magic? That there's real scientific principles at work is irrelevant. To the average person, it is something that will never be understood."

Sam, standing in the doorway, broke in. "Clarke's Third Law: 'Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.'"

The Goa'uld faced her. "The same can also be said in reverse. I have seen things that all the technology I possess can't explain."

The archeologists had fallen silent. Sam eyed him. "Like what?"

"What is the statistical probability that life as we know it would evolve? That any life would evolve at all? That someone with a sufficiently advanced brain can apparently break the laws of physics?" He spread his hands. "To repeat myself: What is that, if not magic?"

Sam cocked her head. "Something we aren't evolved enough to understand, yet. Silly superstitions shouldn't have a place in science."

Ba'al frowned and then gently corrected her. "Silly superstitions are the foundation of science. The ability to see cause and effect and draw a conclusion – no matter how wrong it may or may not be – is the beginning of any species moving beyond basic needs. The trial and error of early superstition is an essential part of social and scientific evolution and revolution."

She blinked at him. "Be that as it may, that doesn't mean that there really is some sort of magic at work."

Ba'al smirked. "That doesn't mean that there isn't, either. Just that it hasn't been proven yet. It is, after all, impossible to completely prove a negative. I could do two thousand experiments where I let go of a book and it falls to the ground. I can even provide sound scientific reasons for it to do so. That doesn't mean that it will _never _float up – just that it hasn't happened as of yet. Seeing as I _have_ seen it happen..."

Sam nodded. "In space."

He shook his head. "On a planet." At her curious stare, he continued. "I once met a man who had mastered his mind to the point that he could levitate objects around him. I spent months trying to determine how he did it. I brought my own objects. I moved him to random venues. I scanned his mind. The only unusual factor was that he used his brain more efficiently than the average human."

One of the archeologists spoke up. "And you didn't take him as a host?"

Ba'al's eyes snapped to him, just short of the Goa'uld flash. The others in the room tried to put a subtle distance between themselves and the one who'd spoken. "One, I couldn't be sure that the ability would survive implantation. I did say that the skill resided in his mind, did I not? Where exactly does a symbiote's head go again?"

The man looked abashed and Ba'al's expression softened. He realized that the question was motivated by curiosity and not meant as a condemnation. "Two, I am rather used to this host and he to me. I would... miss him."

That statement seemed to open the floor for them to pose questions that hadn't before. They hadn't wanted to offend him. Another archaeologist spoke up. "How much do you two share?"

Ba'al smiled. "Everything."

The man frowned. "Everything? How...?"

The Goa'uld settled himself on the edge of a table. "Imagine, if you will, that you have had a friend for a decade. Your minds are so attuned that you almost hear each others thoughts. One of you is never out of sight of the other. You receive all the same input, know the same things. You each instantly understand the very root of the other's reasons, needs and desires." The man nodded. "Now, imagine that you can hear his thoughts and you've been that way for ten thousand years."

Daniel blinked. "It'd be like being a single person."

"Precisely." He grinned. "Though, it's not as much of a sign of insanity when you talk to yourself." He turned his gaze to Sam. "What can I help you with, Major?"

"Oh, the General wanted to know if you'd like to go out and about tomorrow. He can have a list of venues to you by dinner, if you'd like."

"I would be most pleased. Would SG-1 be joining us?" Ba'al's face held polite interest, though his eyes were locked on her.

"Um. Jack and Teal'c were going to go fishing. General Hammond is forcing them to take their vacation time before the end of the quarter. Daniel?"

"I was planning on going through another box of stuff from off-world." He gestured at a large packing crate behind him. "And I have another telephone argument scheduled with an NID goon."

Sam nodded. "I could come. I need a break from the lab, anyway."

"In that case, I would be most pleased to have your company."

* * *

"I know your species can do better than this."

Sam had to smile as Ba'al quietly shared with her his opinion of Tau'ri transportation. It wasn't really uncomplimentary. The whispered comment was more amusing than anything else. "Just a few minutes more and we'll be there."

"That's what you said twenty minutes ago." He straightened in his seat at the glance from the driving airman, and Sam chuckled.

"Early morning traffic. Everyone's trying to get to work on time."

The Goa'uld nodded, and started examining the sunglasses they'd provided him. "I still don't see why you want me to wear these."

"Because normal people don't have glowing eyes?"

"They only glow when I lose control of my emotions." He snorted. "I have better self control than _that._"

"At your age, I'd hope so." She grinned at his light glare. "Seriously, anyone can slip up. We're just trying to avoid any incidents."

"This Aquarium better be worth this."

* * *

Even Ba'al had to admit that it was. They forgot, frequently, that the Goa'uld had started out as an aquatic species. Considering that they spent all of their time inside other species' bodies, it was an easy thing to do. Seeing him move gracefully back and forth between exhibits and gazing longingly at the tanks served as a poignant reminder.

She had to grin when he stopped to stare at a moray. "Relative or friend?"

Ba'al laughed. "This late in the evolutionary chain, who knows?"

She left him standing there for a moment and had a quiet word with one of the airmen that had accompanied them as security. He broke off and went to have a word with one of the docents. Ba'al was listening to the recording at a shark display. He glanced at her as she came back over. "They're beautiful."

"And deadly, under the wrong circumstances."

"Most beautiful creatures are."

It took her a second to realize he was no longer staring at the sharks, and a split second after that for the blush to rise.

Her surprise, arranging for him to swim in the tanks, went over quite well. Not that the fish had been anxious to get anywhere near him – they'd fled with all due haste. It seemed they realized that he was both not human and an aquatic predator. He'd had fun, however, and she'd gotten to enjoy watching him.

He was a natural swimmer. She wasn't surprised, but she was appreciative.

* * *

Their return trip was interrupted early on by a stop at a fast food place. He'd jokingly accused her of trying to poison him or, perhaps, herself. The airman had been a bit shocked, but she'd chuckled. "It does take some... It's an acquired taste."

"I'll agree with that."

They were lightly bantering with each other, eating the last of their fries and ignoring the trees they were passing, when the vehicle swerved. The airman pulled them safely over and got out to inspect the damage. He was back a few seconds later to advise them of a flat tire. Ba'al gave a melodramatic sigh. "A tel'tak never gets a flat tire."

"A tel'tak doesn't _have_ tires."

He grinned at her with a raised eyebrow. "And your point?"

She opened her mouth to reply when she heard the impact of their driver's body hitting the ground. She reached for her sidearm, glad that she'd brought it with her, and noticed Ba'al slipping a hand into his pocket as well. She had to pause when he pulled it out. "How did you get a hand device past security?"

He gave her an absent smile, but didn't answer. Instead, he chose to slide out of the car and into a defensive crouch. She followed, knelt next to their driver and pulled the dart out of his neck. "What the...?"

A sharp pain in her back, and the world grew dim. There was the sound of a hand device discharging and yells as the darkness swallowed her.

* * *

"Major? Major Carter?" She swam back towards consciousness and the sound of Ba'al's voice. She blinked gritty eyes and peered at the roof of her cage – cage? She sat up and instantly regretted the swift motion. Considering the number of times I've been knocked out, she inwardly grumbled, you'd think I'd know better. "Ah, you're awake."

She turned her head, slowly. She was in a short cage made of – if she had to guess – steel. It was about four feet tall and had a four by six footprint, so she could at least stretch out comfortably. Ba'al wasn't so lucky. He was just slightly too tall to lie down without bending his legs.

At the moment, he was leaning against the bars on one side and staring at her. He'd been stripped down to just his pants. Even his shoes had been taken. She gave him a slight smile, trying to be reassuring. They appeared to be in some sort of warehouse. "Any sign of our captors?"

"Not as of yet."

She glanced down at herself. Wonderful. She was in just her shirt and panties. They'd even taken her bra. No doubt to keep her from using the under wire as a lock pick. "Lovely."

"Yes, but now isn't the time."

She met his perfectly flat gaze and sighed. She wasn't going to argue. Her head hurt too much. "Right."

"Do you believe you have a concussion? You hit your head rather hard when you went down."

"Probably." She started examining the lock. It was a better than decent combination lock. It wasn't the sort that you could open by breaking – if she'd even had something to break it with. She spotted her clothes on a table across the room. "You know what's worse than realizing that you're half naked in front of a man you barely know?"

"What?"

"Realizing that you can actually _see_ your clothes and that you're cold." He snorted at that and she nodded. "Yeah. It's not funny, but it is."

"Considering your commentary regarding our state of dress, I suppose it would be impolitic to offer my body heat?"

"Yes. It would probably be just as wrong to accept."

He thoughtfully cocked his head at her and lifted one arm. She scooted across the rough floor – the cage was bolted to it, dammit – and settled against his chest. "Not a word."

"There are none to describe, Major."

"Under the circumstances, you can call me Sam."

"You have my permission to ignore my honorific, as well, Samantha."

* * *

Hours passed and the night wore on. A warehouse in February didn't offer the best temperature range for human habitation. She started shivering long before he did. His symbiote had upped his metabolism for a brief time, raising his body temperature and keeping them both a little warmer. He'd had to stop, though, as he'd almost literally burn himself out without a supply of nutrients.

At least he managed to taper it so that it wasn't an abrupt change.

At around three in the morning, he became certain that Samantha was trying to wear his skin. She was certainly burrowed into his side. By four in the morning, he was ready to return that sentiment. He could only hope that they weren't going to wind up with hypothermia. Considering the temperature, it seemed likely that they would.

He looked down at her, frowning. His symbiote could repair his body quickly, and could probably sustain him for several more hours. She didn't have such recourse. He tilted her chin up. She was pale and convulsively shivering. Definitely a case of mild to moderate hypothermia.

He wouldn't permit her to die. If nothing else, it might cause issues with the proposed treaty. Also, her team was remarkably impractical about such things... He would prefer that his ha'tak stayed in one piece.

Making a decision that he hoped was the correct one, he eased away. It was a small effort to strip his leather pants off – he was starting to wish he'd worn something beneath them – and start tugging them onto her. Her shivers were making it more difficult, however. "Samantha... Samantha!"

She jerked awake and eyed him blearily. Her eyes took in his state of dress. "Not in the mood, sorry." She started to drift off again and he gave a mental apology before lightly slapping her.

Her eyes snapped back open. "Help me get these on you."

She swallowed and nodded, then started to help him. Her movements were slow and uncoordinated – not a good sign. Neither was the bluish cast to her fingertips. Adding in her earlier confusion, he revised his previous opinion: moderate to severe hypothermia. "What about you?"

"We'll be fine." _I hope._ "You will not be without further covering."

He got her dressed in his pants and settled back again for her to lean on. She started laughing. "You know... If they find us like this, I'll never live it down."

He chuckled. "At least you're clothed... No doubt they will begin doubting their masculinity."

She snorted into his chest.

* * *

It was just after dawn when their captors finally showed themselves. They entered the room carrying steaming cups of coffee and bundled in warm coats. One sat down and started devouring a hot breakfast of bacon, eggs and pancakes. Their actions deliberately showcased all the things that their two captives were craving.

Ba'al had to admit that they were good at this, and they hadn't even really started yet.

* * *

_I'm only going to touch on it very lightly, but next chapter will have mentions of torture. For that reason, I'm going to bump the rating up to 'M' when I post it. I actually wrote the draft of the next two chapters last night. As I result, I can actually guarantee they will exist. Beyond that, who knows?_


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer**

_If this were mine, we'd have seen a lot more Ba'al._

* * *

**Part Four**

Jack paced his office, waiting for any word. There hadn't been a peep since Carter and Ba'al had disappeared the day before. Some were arguing that it was a Goa'uld plot but – for once – he was pretty sure that wasn't the case. This just reeked of NID involvement.

Daniel walked in, doing his best to seem upbeat. "Anything?"

Jack shook his head. "Not yet."

"I thought you were haunting the General's office."

Jack shrugged. "He kicked me out about an hour ago. Told me that he'd let me know. They haven't even found the car."

They both turned as Hammond's voice sounded from the door. "Yes, they have. It's about thirty miles from here. The airman accompanying them was found dead inside."

Jack stared at him. "General..."

"Go."

* * *

Neither he nor Sam had put up too much of a fight at being removed from the cage. After all, they wanted out. If they were outside of the cage, there was a greater possibility of escape.

Unfortunately, their captors were extremely cautious. They'd sedated Ba'al before removing him. They didn't seem ashamed to admit that his physical strength worried them. Sam was in no condition to fight, and they apparently knew it. That knowledge hadn't stopped them from keeping weapons pointed at her at all times, however.

He'd woken up secured to a tilted metal table, head up, with his body at what he estimated was a thirty degree angle to the floor. He had a near perfect view of Sam. She was strapped down to a similar surface and they'd cut the clothing off of her. He could see the shreds of fabric and leather on the ground nearby.

He tugged at his bindings, noting that they were steel shackles and too strong for him to break. He might be able to pull the chains, if there was a weakened link. "Did I miss anything exciting?"

"Oh, just your usual death threats and promises of rewarding cooperation."

"Standard fare, then." He tried a sharp, hard pull on the chain and then a consistent pressure. There was no give in it. "I wonder where they buy their supplies. These are good quality."

She blinked at him. "That's the only thing you have to say?"

"What else is there? Do you see an avenue of escape that I've overlooked?"

She glanced around, tried her own bonds (again), then wiggled a bit to see if she could get the table to move. "Not yet."

"Then they've done their job well. I can appreciate that even if I don't approve of the application."

She shot him a glare. "You're trying to distract me."

"Thinking about what will happen won't help." He shifted position a bit, trying to find a more comfortable position. He felt it prudent not to mention that she should be grateful her legs were bound together instead of separated. At the present time, it appeared rape wasn't in the cards.

He didn't want her to panic. Panicked help was as useful as no help. How did humans offer comfort? "Your friends will come for you."

"They'll come for you, too."

"I sincerely doubt your Colonel would do more than shrug if I were to die a slow, torturous death. I am a Goa'uld. He despises us." He sighed. The symbiote was laboring to keep him warm. It may be daytime, but it was still chilly. That it had been working so hard to do so the night before wasn't helping. He'd exhaust his reserves soon, if he wasn't fed and given proper rest. "I can't honestly say that I blame him. My kind have been remarkably cruel to him."

"Generalizations about a species doesn't equal knowledge of an individual. You're not like the others."

He snorted. "I am cruel and vicious, manipulative and cunning. I see little to no difference." At her silence, he continued. "Just because thinking of others is something I see as being in my own best interests... It does not make me what you humans would term 'a good man.'"

"You gave me your pants last night."

"Mm. And? Escape is easier with a partner. Also, I doubt that the remainder of SG-1 would be understanding were I not to do everything in my power to keep you alive. I like my ship and your friends _do_ have a habit of blowing them up when they're angry."

Sam's laughter echoed morbid amusement. "You're justifying."

He paused, frowning, then decided to try the humorous approach. "I don't believe so but, if I am, then that is my right as a God."

She snorted, but didn't otherwise respond to the jokingly arrogant statement. "You blew up two solar systems in your dispute with Sokar."

"Yes."

"Why?"

He gave as much of a shrug as his bonds would allow. "It was efficient. I showed that I was willing to do anything to defeat him, thus I frightened him into submission. I lost fewer resources during that event than I would have if we had continued our contest over centuries."

"You mean fewer humans."

"Humans, food, mines... Those two planets were, frankly, the cheaper option."

"How many died?"

"Sixty million, give or take." His voice was deliberately casual. "Plus the crews of four ha'taks. As I had already evacuated most of the ships' crews... I'd estimate an additional two or three hundred."

She narrowed her eyes at the ceiling. "How many would have died?"

He lifted his head for a better look at her face and quirked an eyebrow. "The projection was potentially hundreds of millions, depending on the duration. Plus there would be other lost resources due to planetary bombardments. That doesn't include the numbers for Sokar's domain, of course."

"It's not the course of action I would have taken, but..." She sighed. "I can see the practicality. You're not doing a very good job of convincing me that you're a monster."

"I _am_ a monster, Samantha." He let out a humorless chuckle. "I'm an alien and, therefore, not natural to your world. Inside this body are two separate minds. We might co-operate and agree on most things, but we're still monsters to your people. Perhaps more so, since our minds were in perfect agreement on the loss of life in those two systems. What is the term? Psychopath? Sociopath?"

"I'd say 'triage.' I'd like to think that there might have been another way, but I can see where you thought it was necessary." She ignored the alien argument completely. It wasn't anything she hadn't thought to herself but, at the same time, she was starting to understand that 'alien' might just mean a different point of view.

"You think far too highly of me. I'm sorry to say that I'll probably disappoint you."

"It's possible. But most people disappoint each other at one time or another..." She was cut off by the approach of their captors. One was wheeling in a small cart with various instruments. They reminded Sam of Janet Fraiser's surgical set. Behind him, a second man pushed one bearing food... hot, delicious smelling food. Neither of them could resist sucking in a bit more air in order to savor the scent.

The men left and Ba'al smiled wryly. More classic interrogation tactics - leaving them to contemplate the rewards and punishments. So quickly on the heels of their cold night, starved, and feeling desperately vulnerable without their clothes... It was a good strategy. He was actually tempted. "What time would you say it is?"

Sam ignored the grumbling in her stomach. "Noon?"

He closed his eyes. "Try to sleep. You need the rest and I have no doubt that they'll leave us be for another hour or so."

* * *

Jack glared at the local policeman. "So, summary: You're telling me that the car was found, half submerged in a river, on a road that they wouldn't have taken?"

"Yes, sir."

"Show me."

* * *

The man picked up the knife and moved towards Sam. Even though his eyes were locked with hers, his next words were meant for Ba'al. "You're going to tell me everything I want to know."

"Seeing as that would make us both redundant... I'll have to disappoint you."

It didn't take long for the screaming to start.

* * *

Jack's phone rang and he snapped it open. "Yes?" A few minutes later he tucked it in his pocket. He turned to Daniel. "It seems our 'diplomat' is NID and has some suspicious deposits in his bank account. They're picking up his contact now."

"Do we know where they are?"

"Not yet."

* * *

"What will it take to get you to talk, I wonder?"

The pain abated somewhat and Sam stared across at Ba'al. He was eying their captor with a bland expression. Her voice was raspy from dehydration and screaming, but she managed to speak. "Ba'al, don't say... a word..."

He glanced her way for a moment, then quickly returned his gaze to their torturer. "I have no intention of telling him anything, Samantha. Though, when I am out of these shackles, he had best pray that I have better things to do than deal with him."

From his tone, he could have been discussing the weather. Sam wasn't surprised to see their torturer shiver. The delivery was chilling, and left her suddenly more likely to believe his claim of being a psychopath.

* * *

Jack wanted to bang his head against a wall. The car had been a dead end. The NID contact had led them to another contact, and then another. While they were cleaning out a large portion of them, at this rate they'd never find Sam and Ba'al. He blinked. _When did I start worrying about a Goa'uld?_

* * *

Sam huddled as best she could in the single blanket they'd tossed into the cage. Ba'al was unconscious next to her, having been drugged again before they moved him. The rough gray wool scratched at the various cuts on her torso, and she couldn't stop shivering. It was going to be a bad night. They'd at least provided two buckets – one with water and an empty one to keep the mess down in the cage.

Ba'al's eyes blinked open, but he was still groggy. His symbiote was having difficulty processing the drug. "Samantha?"

"I'm here." He lifted his arm and she snuggled into him. She took care to wrap the blanket around them both. "How do you know so much about Earth?"

"Your turn to distract me?"

"Just answer the question." Her voice wavered slightly. His arms tightened around her and she buried her face in his neck.

"I may have settled just outside of your planet's viewing range and listened into your radio waves every now and then." The hand on her back was gently rubbing. She sighed at the pleasant warmth the friction was causing.

"Why?"

"I was curious." He lifted her and settled her across his lap. The floor was almost radiating cold. He didn't want the little heat her body was capable of generating to be lost. "Also, your people banished us. Even before you opened the Stargate again, I found it prudent to keep an eye on you." Humor laced his tone. "You're dangerous."

She made no reply. He glanced down at her slack face, then leaned his head back against the bars with a chuckle. "There's a beautiful, naked woman in my arms. I'm doing my best to entertain her and she falls asleep. I'm mildly insulted."

* * *

Jack was still awake when dawn broke. He hadn't been able to sleep. From their appearance, Daniel and Teal'c hadn't gotten much rest, either. "Any word?"

"Not yet."

* * *

They were finally fed just after dawn. It wasn't much, a couple of power bars, but it indicated that they weren't going to be killed as of yet. Ba'al was leaning against the wall of the cage, trying not to show his worry. His symbiote needed more food than this.

* * *

_Blood. Pain. Screams. Threats. Starvation. Cold._

_Sleep._

_Wake._

_Repeat._

_Repeat._

_Repeat..._

* * *

Finally. They finally had a solid lead. It took five days, but the warehouse was now surrounded by various SG teams and their ever-helpful support troops. Jack hoped they were in time. He growled. If they weren't...

* * *

He blinked blurred, gritty eyes open. A smudge of pink floated in his field of vision. It slowly resolved into a passably pretty redhead. She was leaning over him. "I'm Doctor Janet Fraiser. You're in the infirmary at Stargate Command. How are you feeling?"

"Do you always annoy your patients with foolish questions?" He winced as he tried to sit up to sip the water she brought him. His spine ached from days spent in a half-sitting position. Bruises and wounds that his symbiote should have healed already littered his chest and arms. Wires, connected to bits of tape, stretched from his heart, forehead, and the back of his neck. "Samantha?"

The doctor gestured to his left and he carefully turned his head. She was lying on the next bed over, still unconscious. "Major Carter is... We're working on it."

Fraiser adjusted his bed so that it was supporting him better. He wasn't particularly pleased with her evasive response, but chose to let it slide for the moment. "Our captors?"

"Have become captives." He looked up to see O'Neill standing in the doorway. "They're also singing rather nicely for their supper."

"I imagine you would object if I were to offer to interrogate them for you."

"Ah, yeah... We're not really that big on letting people be tortured."

As that had been his intent, Ba'al didn't even try to argue the assumption. "I would like to return to my ship. The healing powers of the sarcophagus will easily rectify any damage to my body." _And, hopefully, heal my symbiote so that he can speak to me again... Can you hear me?_

Janet frowned. "I'm not sure I should clear you for travel, as of yet."

He looked at her, pushing aside his internal despair. "Send both Major Carter and myself. The device should repair any issues that she is experiencing. If it would sway your decision, you may join us as well."

The doctor looked very tempted. "Stay here tonight. We'll revisit it tomorrow."

Ba'al was willing to do many things. Arguing with a healer – especially one that was supposedly trying to tend to his health – wasn't one of them. He knew first-hand that they could be vindictive when foolishly riled. "Very well." He turned to Jack. "In that case, please contact my ship and have them send Namzu with a healing device. If nothing else, he should be able to assist with Major Carter's recovery."

* * *

Getting the healer to come wasn't an issue. He arrived within the hour. However, the lithe Goa'uld was less than pleased when his master gestured for him to start with the Tau'ri female. A quiet rebuke from Ba'al had him quickly obeying, but Jack couldn't help but worry a bit about his professional ethics. A scribbled note from Daniel, translating the admonition, eased his mind only a little.

_Obey me. You owe your Lord's life to this woman, and I will be most displeased if she dies._

Jack wasn't sure what Carter had done to save his life. Hammond was understandably careful when pressing Ba'al for details. Not that Ba'al was willing to share much, he was remarkably tight-lipped about the experience. Jack could sympathize, but...

The increasing desperation lurking behind those eyes worried him.

* * *

Ba'al stared at the ceiling of the darkened infirmary. Two good meals and his bruises were fading. The three ribs that the NID had broken were almost completely knitted together. His mangled left hand only held a slight residual ache when he flexed it. It was a good sign, but his symbiote still didn't speak. He couldn't even pick up the occasional stray thought.

Against his will, a memory floated to the surface...

_Whisper-thin needles sliding into the back of his neck. The jerk of his muscles when electrical current was applied. The porcine smell of smoking human flesh. Inhuman screams echoing through his mind. Painful thrashing motions beneath his skin and against his spine, as the symbiote tried desperately to limit the reaction to its lower body. If it writhed in his skull it stood a good chance of killing him..._

He swallowed heavily and gingerly reached up to caress the slight ridge where the symbiote rested. It was still there, but... No answer, no motion. The monitor reading his heart beeped alarmingly, and he forced his mind away from that path before the doctors came to check on him. He had no desire to be forced to sleep.

He'd already been sedated too many times this week.

Casting about for anything, he turned his head to stare at where Sam rested. Five days. Most of the time had been spent torturing her. She'd deliberately tried to keep their attention, even when she needed the rest and a chance to recover. She was magnificent... She was...

He swallowed again as his heart monitor beeped.

* * *

Come morning, he was prepared to fight with the doctor. When she approached, looking disturbingly cheerful, he took a deep breath. "We need to access the sarcophagus."

"All right."

"I understand if... Ah, of course you'd see it my way. You are a sensible woman."

Her eyes were worried, though she smiled a bit at him. "You know your physiology better than I do. If you say that you need the device to speed your healing then I'm going to have to trust you on it. I've already cleared it with the General." Her gaze shifted to Sam's bed. "Major Carter still hasn't woken. I don't suppose you have two of them."

"I do." He gave her his best superior smirk. "It would be foolish to assume that one would never need repairs or maintenance and might be offline when required. I would be delighted to offer the use of one to the Major in this instance."

Janet rolled her eyes, clearly not buying his apparent detachment. "Of course you would."

* * *

A bit less than five minutes after they arrived at his ship, Ba'al and Sam were ensconced in separate sarcophagi. Janet cast about for something to do, but she had no clue how the devices worked. She couldn't even monitor their progress. As a result, she was pacing next to the one containing Sam ten minutes after they arrived.

She glanced up when she heard a throat clear. It was the other Goa'uld... Nambu? Nansu? She couldn't remember. She'd been too worried about her patients when they were introduced. "I'm sorry, I seem to have forgotten your name."

The male nodded. "It is understandable. You focus on your patients, as is the way of a healer. I am Namzu."

She gave a sheepish smile. "Well, I was close."

He returned it, clearly amused. "Indeed. Would you like me to teach you how to observe the process?"

"Please?"

He spent the first twenty minutes explaining the basic functions and how human systems were altered on a microscopic level. The rest of the first hour involved basic navigation of the screens and how life signs were depicted. Janet had never seen anything like it. With the proper interface, they could observe the firing of individual nerve clusters.

All of that was overshadowed by the conclusions he drew from the data. Carter had been all but brain-dead. The sarcophagus was having to not only repair her, but essentially restore her life. It was a long procedure and – due to her starved state – required them to add nutrients to the machine at regular intervals. On one hand, Janet was relieved that he seemed to anticipate full recovery. On the other, he provided a disturbingly clear picture of what damage was caused and when.

Janet had a vivid imagination and wasn't looking forward to her own nightmares.

* * *

Eight hours after he entered his sarcophagus, Ba'al emerged in a much better mood. He could once again hear his symbiote. Apparently, the trauma of electrocution had done more than a bit of damage to its ability to communicate. Still, it was repaired and they were both delighted to be able to commune with one another.

He quickly bathed and dressed. He was desperate to get the fear sweat off of his body. No matter how lovely the nurse, sponge bathing in the infirmary did not suffice. He didn't linger – in spite of the overwhelming desire to _just_ _relax_ – since he wanted to check on Sam. Fifteen minutes later he was in something a little more stylish than the SGC's idea of acceptable convalescent wear and on his way.

He strode into the secondary healing chamber to find Namzu and Fraiser pouring over some data. His healer noticed him first. "My Lord."

He acknowledged the greeting. "Namzu. How does she fare?"

"The process is slow, my Lord. The damage was extensive."

Ba'al frowned and gestured for the apologetic Goa'uld to step away from the console. He browsed the information and shot Janet a look before returning to the screen. "It will be at least another twelve hours. It may possibly take much as two more days. Have you eaten or rested since you arrived?"

"No... um... How do I address you?"

"I understand that your peoples' diplomatic protocol does permit you to call me 'My Lord.' If that is unacceptable, you may simply call me Ba'al. You did serve briefly as my personal healer, so it is not a breach of etiquette... even if Namzu does choose to ignore that privilege." He tried to be amused, but failed. She seemed fooled by the act, at least.

His eyes were almost magnetically drawn to what was displayed. The nerve clusters in Sam's brain were of particular concern. Their captors' idea of electro-play had caused a significant number of problems. "Namzu, escort Doctor Fraiser to rest and eat. She achieves nothing by exhausting herself."

"Yes, my Lord."

Janet wanted to argue but food was just too much of a temptation.

* * *

At the end of the first day, the remaining members of SG-1 were granted permission to return to Ba'al's hat'ak. The Goa'uld didn't mind the intrusion. Honestly, their unconscious demands for attention and reassurance actually made the wait a bit easier. He wasn't sure how he'd wound up arguing with O'Neill in regards to whether ships truly _needed_ names, but it had made over an hour pass without notice. He still flatly refused to dub his vessel the _Jack O'Neill_ or the _Bart Simpson_.

The _Samantha Carter_ had a nice ring to it, though.

At the end of the second day, they were all settled in the secondary healing room. Namzu slipped in and out with some regularity, both to check on the patient and to add nutrients. He still had other duties to attend to. The Jaffa wouldn't stop training simply because a guest was being healed.

Daniel was pouring over his database again. He paused now and then to read something to Jack. The Colonel would pretend some varying degree of disinterest. Ba'al saw what he wasn't saying. He wanted an overview of the information, but was trying to avoid being bombarded by facts and figures he didn't need. Host and symbiote could both sympathize.

Teal'c was meditating in the far corner. Ba'al envied him the ability to simply shut his mind down and regain his center. He'd never managed to achieve it. Possibly, the symbiote reminded him, because their 'center' was skewed by their collective consciousness. He conceded the point without rancor and dismissed the jealousy as unproductive.

He was doing his best to concentrate on the reports sent in by various scout vessels around his territory. It wasn't incredibly interesting reading, and he frequently found his gaze wandering to the display that he'd ordered set up to one side. It was constantly refreshed with information on Sam's state, and a counter at the bottom displayed the estimated time of procedure completion.

Janet was almost obsessively observing it and making notes on the data pad she had requested. She noticed him staring at her and gave a tight smile. "Only a few more minutes."

"Indeed."

"What can we expect when she wakes up?" The question seemed to get everyone's attention, with the exception of Teal'c. Ba'al wasn't surprised. The Jaffa had no doubt seen this many times.

Nonetheless, he put his best into answering. "There are subtle differences between people and the location of the injuries can vary it further. In this instance, I would say disorientation. She will probably suffer a lack of coordination for the first few hours and a small amount of potentially permanent memory loss due to the physical trauma to the brain."

"Permanent? How bad? I thought this machine was some sort of miracle cure."

He turned to Jack, the question cutting into his own mind with sharp claws. "It is as advanced as we have, Colonel. The amnesia? It is _possibly_ permanent. It depends on what areas were damaged and how well it was repaired. I don't anticipate an extensive amount of time lost, as her neural tissues were not even approaching necrotic when we began. Therefore, the initial degradation was minor. Her physical grace should return by tomorrow morning."

"Necrotic? Neural tissue? Rotting in her _head_?"

"She was suffering from severe hypothermia, blood loss, cranial trauma, eighteen broken bones, electrocution burns... Just be thankful that she will live." Ba'al turned his attention back to the countdown and ignored O'Neill's sputtering. Three. Two. One.

With a click and a rush of air, the sarcophagus shut down and opened. The three members of SG-1 visibly restrained themselves as they were waved away by Fraiser and Namzu. The two healers quickly assessed the still-unconscious Major and compared notes. She stirred and Janet started calling out to her. "Major Carter? Sam?..."

They watched with fearful anticipation as Namzu and Janet helped Sam lift herself out of the sarcophagus and sit on the edge. She kept shaking her head and looking around the room as if she expected it to change in front of her. Janet asked a question that Sam ignored. Janet tried again, to similar result.

Namzu glanced at his fellow healer. "Let her be for a few moments. The disorientation is making it difficult for her to process."

Sam raised her eyes to the Goa'uld holding her right arm and frowned, then her unsteady gaze searched the room. "Ba'al?"

"I am here." He walked over and his healer gave way to his Lord. He kept his sentences simple at first, to make them easier for her to follow. "You are on my ha'tak. You are safe. Do you understand?" She nodded slowly. He glanced at Janet and repeated her earlier question. "What is the last thing you remember?"

She lightly touched her forehead, eyes closed. "We were being tortured. You'd threatened them. I think... They were electrocuting your symbiote." She snapped her head up to meet his eyes. "Are you both all right?"

He smiled, just slightly. "We are fine." He ignored both Fraiser and Namzu muttering about tests and physicals. Instead, he took her hands in his. "Grasp my hands as hard as you can."

He immediately had both medic's attention back on his actions. They watched as he walked her through basic cognitive tests. It was amusing to watch him, as he skipped simple math and went straight to calculus. Several times, she corrected him even as he spoke. All the while, he was getting her to bend her limbs this way and that as he tested physical response. At one point, he had her actually giggling: he'd asked her to diagnose a theoretical issue with the ships computer – the answer was apparently 'user error.'

Janet leaned closer to Namzu. "And you're the ship's medic?"

He smirked. "Who did you think trained me? Our Lord has always had a passion for all branches of knowledge. In our lifespans, we can master many Arts."

"I can see that."

Finally, he turned back to them. "It would appear that Major Carter remembers everything up until our third day of imprisonment. At this point, were I her healer, I would prescribe food and rest. What is your opinion, Doctor Fraiser?"

She pursed her lips. "Well, you're the expert in this method of treatment, but I'd have to agree. Her scans were quite promising."

A quick glance to Namzu had him nodding as well. "Excellent. In the interest of disrupting your recovery as little as possible, I would like to offer your previous accommodations to you for at least the night. They are your for longer than that, of course, should you need or desire."

Sam scrubbed a hand across her eyes. "That sounds good."

* * *

O'Neill had insisted on contacting the SGC with an update, but it hadn't taken long. Once everyone had been fed and watered, Ba'al settled into his bed with a sigh. He wanted nothing more than to sleep, but he hadn't been able to do so since their rescue. Not restfully, at least. He picked up a data pad and tried to finally focus on the reports.

It didn't work. If he'd had a clock in his room, he would have been actively watching the second hand tick by. Instead, he was leaning back against his pillows and staring at the wall when he heard the noise at his door. "Ba'al?"

"You may enter."

She was dressed in a simple, white cotton shift. It was, he knew, something borrowed from one of his crew. The fabric was thick enough to contain body heat when the room was cold, but allowed the skin to breathe in hot weather. He took in her rumpled hair and the smudges under her eyes. Without a word, he lifted his arm.

She shot across the room to settle against him. Sobs wracked her body and he felt her tears against his throat. It took just a little maneuvering to get them both under his silken sheets and lying down, her head on his chest. "You know, the ability to lie down with my legs outstretched... I doubt I shall ever take it for granted again."

She gave a damp chuckle. "I'm sorry that I disturbed you... I just..."

"I know." He brushed fingers through her hair and then rubbed soothing circles on her back. "It is comforting to have you here, as well."

"Safer."

He nodded. "Safer."

* * *

Jack was not pleased when he discovered that Carter wasn't in her room, Teal'c's or Daniel's. He spent a few moments deliberating, then questioned Janet. Her guess wasn't something he wanted to hear. "People who survive events like this together seldom want to be separated for long periods at first. It's quite possible that she's with Ba'al."

What was worse, was that she was right. It was one thing to have him as an ally, or to sympathize over shared pain... But, to be bade to enter Ba'al's rooms and find Sam asleep and sprawled on the fully awake Goa'uld? Not good.

Ba'al set his reports aside and held one finger to his lips. His kept his voice low. "How may I help you, Colonel?"

Jack bit back the urge to yell, though his voice was still sharp. "I don't know, tell me why you're in bed with one of my troops?"

Sam murmured and Ba'al paused long enough to be sure she wasn't going to wake. "Quietly please, Colonel. She had difficulty sleeping and came here. I would think that was obvious."

"Well, we need to get her home. She has family, you know." Jack wasn't really sure of that last statement, but he was moderately so. He was fairly sure she'd mentioned a dad... or a brother.

Ba'al gave a reluctant nod. He teased fingers lightly through her hair, gently tugging. "Samantha? You need to wake."

She mumbled something and her arm snaked around his waist as she burrowed in further. The System Lord chuckled lightly. "Come now, Samantha. I doubt you wish to be carried into your base in your underthings."

Jack had the odd feeling that he was intruding on an intimate moment. He didn't like it. "Major Carter!"

Her head jerked up sharply and impacted with Ba'al's nose. The resultant groans were almost enough to make him feel guilty. Almost. "If you're done cavorting, the rest of us would like to get home."

She shot him a glare as she rubbed her head. Ba'al answered before she did. If the two humans were honest, he probably saved her career in that moment. "We were hardly cavorting. Unless sleeping has taken on new levels of licentiousness of which I am not aware."

Sam winced. "Sort of, but not really." She started to get out of the bed then paused, pulling the sheet up higher over her chest. "Um..."

Without having to be asked, and completely unabashed at his own nudity, Ba'al rose gracefully from the bed and retrieved one of his robes. "I hope this will suffice until you reach your rooms, Samantha."

She blushed. "Yes, thank you."

Jack really wanted to glare at the Goa'uld, but he was too busy avoiding the opportunity to view him in full technicolor.

* * *

The group met at the Stargate a few hours later. Teal'c was leaning against the nearby wall, seemingly relaxed. Daniel was having a last minute conversation with Sidu. Janet and Namzu were making promises to exchange more information. He was fascinated by the idea of studying Tau'ri healing methods, as Goa'uld healing centered around the Sarcophagi and the hand devices.

Ba'al, waiting to see them off, was chatting quietly with Sam. His eyes were full of concern, though the rest of his face maintained a pleasantly blank expression. Jack fought down the clawing jealousy in his chest. He was not happy that she was so enamored of a Goa'uld. In his opinion, even Sergeant Siler was a better choice.

Ba'al noticed that the entire group had convened and said a few words, promising continuing friendship. Jack tuned him out for the most part. Although, he did note the promise of continuing treaty negotiations at a later date. He also noticed the nervous motions Sam made every time she looked at the Gate.

Ba'al finished his commentary and the group entered the wormhole.

* * *

_Well... So much for the torture. I tried to make it as non-graphic as possible while still revealing some of what they went through. _

_I think I'll bring in Jolinar soon. Let's see how the Tok'ra symbiote responds to humans that are actually allied with - and not subservient to - a Goa'uld!... I'm re-writing the next chapter, as it was mostly filler/fluff. That's just not fun, now is it?_

_And, yes, I've changed the status to officially in-progress. I just keep coming up with ideas. I'll let you know when that changes._


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer**

_I am sad to say that I cannot find my certificate of ownership - therefore, legally, it's not mine._

**_Warnings_**

_Cannibalism and a bit of fluffiness._

* * *

**Part Five**

A month after their torturous imprisonment, Ba'al was lounging in the cafeteria at the SGC. He was spending more time here than he was on his ship. As was usual, his First Prime was standing near him. Babati's gaze never settled on his master, instead roaming the room for threats. The protective Jaffa had never – and possibly would never – forgive them for his Lord's ordeal. At the very least, it would take him a very long time to trust them with the Goa'uld's security again.

Still, he had to admit one thing: his God seemed happier here than he did on his ship. Not during the treaty negotiations, of course. Those bored him into near insensibility. No, his obvious cheer – obvious for Ba'al, subtle for anyone else – only manifested when he was seated near or speaking with Major Samantha Carter. For a human, she was blessed above many others. She always had his undivided attention when she was present.

Babati had to wonder if she knew that his Lord had commended the loyalty of his Jaffa to her should anything happen to him. He doubted it. He was certain that she'd recognize the honor. She'd be no doubt be overwhelmed.

The human spies had built a bond between the two that had no doubt been unanticipated. If they'd had any modicum of sense, they would have known that it would form. There was a trust between them that would require a truly monumental betrayal to break. Torture had that effect on those who endured together.

Presently, the two were discussing how best to power the new engine that she had built. He was offering a sample of naquadah to experiment with. His professed reasoning was that he was hoping for trade between their two peoples. Babati was fairly certain that he just wanted to see how fast it would go with a more than adequate energy source. His master had always loved fast engines and explosive detonations...

They'd almost had to forcibly drag him away from the plans for Tau'ri cars in order to continue negotiations. It had been especially difficult once he found out that they used to be called 'explosive engines.' Not that the Major hadn't been right there with him. All he'd had to do was start discussing modifications for efficiency and speed, and she'd been just as fascinated. Babati let the slightest smile play about his lips as the two ran out of paper and began drawing designs on their napkins. Their daunting intelligences played off of each other to find solutions for problems that they hadn't even encountered yet.

Yes, they suited each other well.

She would be a magnificent Queen.

* * *

Ba'al's mood sank when she told him the news, early the next day. Sam was going out on a mission to negotiate with some backwater planet. He wanted to rage. He was here on Earth, dammit. She should be there to entertain him! His symbiote – in one of their rare moments of disagreement – pointed out that he was not a toddler and should, therefore, cease pouting.

Sam's amused smile was worth the loss of dignity, however. "You really are such a child at times, aren't you?"

He crossed his arms and stared at the lab table, trying not to show how pleased he was at her ease with him. She didn't fear him in the slightest. He was also intensely aware of her position, less than a foot from him. "I am older than your civilization and a God. Your people should exist to entertain me."

She snorted. "I've seen less childish pouts on a five year old. And you're not _our_ God."

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and met her gaze. A split second later, they were both chuckling. He calmed himself with a bit of effort and leaned down to better examine the small sensor she had been calibrating. "You will be careful, will you not? I'd hate to have to destroy a perfectly good planet because they injured you."

"Of course." She shot him a Look. "And, there will be no destroying of worlds over me."

He drew himself up arrogantly and smirked down at her. "What is the phrase? 'I make no promises.'"

Anyone else would have been shot for elbowing him. Sam just got The Pout v.2.0.

* * *

She had still been laughing when she entered the Stargate. Not so, once she was on planet and the gliders began bombarding the populace. She was less happy when the person she was performing CPR on apparently tried to kiss her. That said kiss had passed on a symbiote _really_ didn't make her day.

The symbiote was buried deeply in her mind. She'd tried, repeatedly, to throw it out. Ba'al had told her that – with enough willpower – it was possible to at least suppress it. As it was, she was doing good to keep it out of her memories. It had already thrown up a red flag by calling Teal'c 'just a Jaffa.'

The absolute horror that ricocheted through the Tok'ra at Hammond's next words made her almost giddy. He'd realize. He'd know what was going on. "Perhaps Ba'al will have some sort of idea why they would attack."

Jolinar, still controlling Sam's body, voiced. "Ba'al, sir? Do we want him that knowledgeable of our day to day operations?"

Everyone at the table looked at her. Hammond sat back in his seat. "I'm surprised, Major. Normally, you're the first one to suggest we consult him."

"It's just that, whatever the reason, they are both Goa'uld. What proof do we have that he's going to tell us, even if he does know? They are not known for sharing their plans with each other." Jolinar's panicked confusion was almost enough to let Sam regain control. Almost, but not quite.

The suspicious gazes now coming from the others were a relief to Sam. Unfortunately, after a second, it appeared that Hammond was going to take 'her' opinion on the topic as a legitimate point. That was when Ba'al decided to enter the room. "General, are you going to monopolize Samantha all day? I was under the impression that you wanted us to complete the sensor array."

She could feel him in a way that she hadn't before. Her blood was almost sizzling in his presence, and the symbiote around her spine was shifting slightly in discomfited nervousness. Ba'al's attention settled heavily on her, though he didn't seem inclined to mention that there was something off. _Please, please notice._ "Indeed, Lord Ba'al. We were just discussing something else I would like to ask you about, however."

His eyes darted back to the General for only a moment. "Oh?"

"It seems a Goa'uld decided to wipe out the people we were negotiating with today. There had been no activity on that planet in three hundred years. Can you give us an idea of why they would do that?"

Ba'al frowned slightly. "An idea? No. I do have _several_ ideas, however." He settled in a chair. "If a new Lord were to take over a system, he might want to remove any potential threats. Were they very technically advanced?"

Jack answered. "Middle ages, at best."

"Hmm... Loyal to another?"

Daniel pondered the idea for a moment before speaking. "Not loyal to any 'deity.' That is, not that we saw."

"Did you witness any evidence of a rebellion? Perhaps..." He was definitely watching her, now. "The Tok'ra?"

Jack frowned. "You've mentioned them before. Some sort of hypocritical, anti-Goa'uld?"

Ba'al nodded. "Indeed. They are seldom spoken of, even amongst the System Lords. However, while they are a definite pest, their methods are inefficient and... sloppy. It's quite possible that one was tracked to the planet."

"So, there could be a Tok'ra spy on the base?" The General looked as close to angry as she'd seen him. "And this spy hasn't identified him or herself as a potential ally, or even as the reason for the attack."

"It is quite possible, and providing identification would be quite against a spy's standard methods of operation." Hammond's face didn't betray any sheepishness at the rebuke – gentle though it was – as Ba'al continued. "I assume that you are having the refugees I noticed outside examined thoroughly - checking for symbiotes?"

"We are now." The General closed his briefing folder. "Major Carter, as soon as you're checked out in the infirmary, continue working on the sensor array. Lord Ba'al, thank you for your input on this issue. Dismissed, everyone."

Ba'al fell into step beside her, offering no comment. He observed the examination in the infirmary without saying a word. He didn't even speak when Janet noticed the abrasion on the back of her throat, though his gaze sharpened. Sam wondered what he was playing at.

Meanwhile, Jolinar grew increasingly nervous. The symbiote couldn't shake him without raising further suspicion. The pair constantly kept company when he was on base. Sam made sure that she knew it, too. She trusted Ba'al to keep the Tok'ra from harming her friends. A sentiment that made the symbiote inside her mind scoff angrily. _He is Goa'uld. He will harm you and them!_

_He has saved my life, traded information and technology, kept me from blowing us all to kingdom come with an engineering mistake... Hell, he even held me when I cried! Exactly where does that show him as being anything but an ally?_

_He is Goa'uld... He is the epitome of the Goa'uld! His manipulations and maneuvering know no bounds. He has no loyalty, love or compassion. He is looking for some way to turn things to his advantage, you can be certain._

_Really? 'No loyalty, love or compassion?' _She grabbed a half-forgotten conversation from when they'd been tortured and shoved it into the symbiote's mental field of vision. They'd been cold, tired, and afraid to sleep on the third night of their imprisonment – they might not have woken. They'd spent their time shivering and exchanging memories and banter in the effort to keep from passing out. The quiet discussion where he explained his first interaction with the Tok'ra was obviously sincere, the heartbreak plain to see and hear. _Why don't you explain that, then?_

The Tok'ra was silent for a moment._ To turn his back on the freedom of all races, simply because we did not offer sufficient sympathy? To destroy an entire ship full of people for the same reason? He is more of a monster than I had thought._

Sam, well aware of what she would have done had an alien race even considered threatening to destroy everything and everyone she ever loved, mentally frowned at Jolinar. _Do you have something resembling a heart? Haven't you ever heard of a psychotic break? I'm surprised he's not more evil than he is, frankly. And it wasn't just because of a lack of sympathy. Did your people even try to take the battle somewhere that innocents wouldn't be harmed?_

Jolinar paused, then retreated for another avenue of attack. The conversation was not going how she would have expected. Had he revealed all of his secrets to this Tau'ri? _And the two planets he destroyed?_

That memory was far easier to access, having come earlier in her torment. _He makes no apologies for what he is, Jolinar. He even seems to believe that he is as much the monster as you claim he is. He feels... guilty. Is that a sign of a monster?_

Jolinar was silent until they reached Sam's private lab. There were no other scientists to disturb them here, no guards to alert. Ba'al paused just inside the door. Jolinar crossed the room so that the body she wore was standing next to a nicely explosive device. Ba'al's voice was quiet, gentle, but oddly threatening at the same time. "Who are you? And why are you in my Samantha?"

"Your Samantha?" _You see, he thinks of you as a pet – a toy._

_I sincerely doubt that. He wouldn't allow a pet or a toy to assault 'his august personage.' _Jolinar sputtered in her mind as the memory of her elbowing him earlier played behind her lids.

"She is my Samantha," he paused, "just as I am _Her_ Ba'al."

_Oh... my... God... Is... he...?_

Both were speechless.

* * *

Jack turned to the rest of SG-1 as soon as Ba'al, Hammond and Carter were out of hearing range. "Did that seem a little odd to you?"

Teal'c pondered. "Indeed. I would never have expected Major Carter to express herself in such a manner."

Daniel nodded. "Yeah, her speech patterns have changed. A lot."

The Colonel frowned. "Do you think she got herself snaked?"

Teal'c shifted slightly. "If she did, then Ba'al is quite aware of that fact. The symbiotes can sense one another. I would imagine that he is trying to resolve the situation in a manner that does not bring further danger to Major Carter."

Daniel frowned. "The Tok'ra hate the Goa'uld with a passion. What's to say that she won't harm Sam in an attempt to get to him?"

Jack sighed. "I really hate those snakes. Goa'uld and Tok'ra, both. Okay, campers... Teal'c can they sense you?" At his nod, Jack continued. "Okay, you go to the security room and keep an eye on the cameras. I want to know the second that there's a problem. Daniel and I will follow at a distance and, hopefully, intervene if things get out of hand."

Their missions assigned, they went their separate ways.

* * *

Ba'al bit back a snort at the gaping expression on Samantha's face. "You haven't answered my questions. Why are you in Samantha?"

Jolinar swallowed to moisten the host's suddenly dry throat. The sudden desperate surge Sam gave to regain control forced Jolinar to clamp down even tighter on her psyche. Her eyes glowed and her voice attained the symbiote harmonic. "My host was dying. She pressed her mouth to mine. I thought that it was an invitation. I did not realize it wasn't until I was already present in her body."

Ba'al did snort at that. "How could a human invite you if she wasn't aware of your presence? You're lying."

Jolinar shook her head quickly. "No, I... I was desperate." Her eyes widened. "The Ashrak..."

Ba'al quirked an eyebrow. "Oh, so now there is an assassin in this tale? Do tell."

Jolinar glared, aware that Sam was clawing into her in an attempt to jolt her out. It wasn't improving the symbiote's mood. "Cronus sent one after me. I have been dodging it on several worlds. It must have gotten a message back to its master. That was – no doubt – why the attack occurred."

The System Lord cocked his head to one side. "A reasonable assumption." He settled on one of the hard plastic chairs, lounging as if it were one of his more comfortable thrones. "Now, who are you and what will it take to get you to leave my Samantha?"

* * *

Jack and Daniel both paled as they heard the last question. They were right. Jack started to head for the door, but Daniel stopped him. "Don't. We walk in there, who knows what will happen?"

* * *

"A willing host."

"That can be arranged." Ba'al decided to ignore the lack of an introduction. "That can be arranged rather quickly, actually. What else?"

Jolinar narrowed her host's eyes. "Just because I am here against this body's will does not mean that I will force her to maintain me for longer than is needful. I am no Goa'uld."

Ba'al nodded, his tone almost agreeable. "No, you are a Tok'ra. I find it difficult to believe that you will willingly abandon such an effective bargaining chip. What else do you want?"

"The end of the System Lords."

He shook his head. "Not on the table. Even if I were able to destroy the others at this very moment, your statement includes me. Try again."

Sam had quieted, tired and oddly fascinated by the exchange taking place. "The Ashrak."

"I have no intention of leaving him alive." Ba'al shrugged. "If nothing else, his continued existence would potentially alert the others to my arrangements with the Tau'ri. I will not endanger our alliance by offering myself up as a... I believe the term is 'sacrificial lamb.' What else?"

"Free passage away from this place."

"That would have to go through the commander of this facility."

Jolinar scoffed. "You are Ba'al. I have no doubt that you can arrange it, if you so choose."

For the first time, he gave a genuine smile. "You do seem to know me, after all. Very well. Free passage from this facility, the death of the Ashrak and a willing host – do we have an accord?"

"Yes."

* * *

Jack and Daniel eyed each other for a moment, before easing away from the door. Neither wanted to upset the balance of the agreement. Jack didn't like it, but he knew that Ba'al was trying to keep Sam safe. His gut was telling him that the Goa'uld would do everything in his power to achieve that end and it seldom lied, even if he wished that it did when it came to the two of them.

* * *

The Ashrak was, perhaps, the easiest part. Ba'al offered to search the refugees himself. One pointing finger and a zat blast later, they had the unconscious Ashrak in custody. When he offered to attempt to remove the symbiote, the General was delighted. Sam's request to observe the procedure was expected.

Unfortunately, Janet wanted to view it as well.

Ba'al didn't argue, just waited until he had the three on his ship and told Janet flatly about the Tok'ra and their agreement. Janet was not happy to hear he'd lied to her superiors. However, she was forced to concede that it was the most expedient route. She didn't want Sam 'possessed' by a Tok'ra any more than Sam or Ba'al did.

The Ashrak was removed through the very simple expedient of cannibalism. Sam was more than slightly repulsed when she understood what was happening. Ba'al simply leaned his head down over the back of the unconscious host and his symbiote crawled inside to devour the original invader before returning. Jolinar was left pondering why he hadn't done the same to her. Perhaps he was afraid of accidentally injuring her host.

Janet checked over the former host and nodded after a moment. "There doesn't seem to be any lingering issue from the Ashrak. The burns, however... Could we borrow your sarcophagus for him?"

"If you wish." Ba'al shuddered. "I am going to have to put more research into removing an unwilling symbiote. That was... hideous."

Janet eyed him. "Maybe I should check you over as well..."

He held up a hand and shook his head. "Your concern is unwarranted. It's simply a mild case of indigestion."

Jolinar suddenly, frantically, wanted out of her host as Sam's pondered the ramifications of a symbiote vomiting into a host's mind. Just the idea nauseated them both. "My host?"

Ba'al gathered himself. "Yes, of course." A summons and several minutes later, there was a group of lower ranking humans standing in front of them. None had been aboard the ship long. Ba'al had no intentions of handing a Tok'ra more intelligence than he could avoid.

The System Lord's call for volunteers was at first received with glee. When they discovered that they wouldn't be joining with a 'proper' Goa'uld, though, the numbers were quickly whittled down to three. Jolinar spoke with each of them, ignoring the impatience expressed by both her host and Ba'al. She wanted to be certain that she could live with the person he was blended with.

Even so, despite her host's protests, she still wasn't sure that she'd be allowed to leave upon completion of their agreement.

Sam was rather irritated to regain control of her body while kissing the human. She backed away quickly, nearly toppling in her disorientation. Janet caught her. She was dizzy, but her head came up when Ba'al spoke.

"Now, I believe our deal is concluded." He had a zat in his hands, and looked ready to use it.

Jolinar backed away. "I can see my faith in our agreement was warranted."

He smiled. "Hardly, my dear Tok'ra. You are away from Stargate Command. You have a new host. The Ashrak is dead. I have kept to the word of our agreement."

He lifted the zat to fire. "Ba'al," Sam rasped past her sore throat. He paused. "Let them go, please?"

Ba'al frowned. "Are you certain? She _violated _you. I should scatter her atoms across all of space."

"I'm sure."

He eyed the Tok'ra. "She will tell her people of our treaty. Earth will be in danger, as will I."

"Ba'al, I promised..."

To Jolinar's surprise he not only _didn't_ attack the human that dared to address him so familiarly, he lowered the weapon. "Very well, Samantha. If you gave your word, I shall honor it." He glared at Jolinar, then raised his voice. "Babati, take this... Tok'ra to the Stargate. I want it off of my ship. Do not let it dawdle."

"Yes, my Lord."

The moment the Tok'ra and First Prime were gone, he was across the room and brushing Janet aside to conduct his own examination. Gentle fingers probed her neck and encouraged her to open her mouth. She almost couldn't breathe from the way her chest clenched at the expression on his face - desperate concern mingling with lingering fear and hesitant relief.

She found herself pressed against his chest. Uncaring of the slightly abashed audience, she wound her arms around his waist and let him bury his nose in her hair. His arms tightened around her as he inhaled, then relaxed as his breath came out in a relieved sigh. "We need to speak later."

Her mind flashed to his startling avowal of loyalty earlier and she looked up at him. "Yes."

He tucked her head back into his chest for a few more moments, then glanced at the embarrassed doctor. "I imagine you wish to examine her?"

Janet smiled. "I would like to, but if you think it can wait...?"

Sam pushed away from him and shook her head. She resisted the temptation to snuggle back into him. He felt warm and safe, soothing to her raw nerves. "I'd rather get it over with."

Ba'al nodded. "Very well. Doctor Fraiser – if you wish, I would be pleased to permit you to use our scanners and to offer Namzu's assistance."

"It would make you feel better, wouldn't it?" He said nothing in reply. "I would appreciate his assistance, yes."

The doctor gave him a knowing smile. Both women chuckled at his raised brow and light glare.

* * *

Janet headed back to the base a half an hour later. She left Sam behind on the excuse that she was going to consult Ba'al's database regarding sensor adjustments. It was true, as Sam did intend to do so. It just wasn't the whole truth.

She found Ba'al in his quarters. He hadn't answered when she'd knocked, and she'd been worried enough to enter uninvited. The guards posted on either side of the door had made no motion to stop her. She pondered that and dismissed it as irrelevant for the moment.

What she found inside was both amusing and mildly disgusting. The host was bent over a basin, emptying the last of his stomach contents. Wrapped around his neck, the symbiote was apparently doing the same thing. The scene was oddly... human, for all that it was so very alien.

She didn't announce herself. She knew that the sizzle from the naquadah in their blood would do that for her. "They taste that bad?"

Her attempt to lighten the situation fell short. "Imagine being asked to consume one of your terrorists as a matter of National Security."

She grimaced and he shot her a semi-amused look. The symbiote coiled up and then back into his body, causing her to shudder in memory of the sensation. Ba'al looked mildly contrite, then frowned. "I do not understand how you can remain in the same room."

She shook her head. "It wasn't your fault. You did everything you could to get me through that... experience safely."

He chose not to comment further on that particular issue. If she wasn't going to associate his symbiote with Jolinar, and possibly fear him as a result, he would be all the happier. "And the cannibalism?"

She winced. "Not your finest moment, but you aren't exactly human. I already knew that. Your species... has different standards about some things. To you, cannibalism isn't distasteful because of the social taboo. It's the... well, _taste_."

"There are some Goa'uld rituals that require it. Cannibalism, that is. It was never my favorite part of a Summit." He rinsed his mouth out with a minty-smelling liquid, then swallowed a bit before settling on his bed. It was a sign of his willingness to trust her with his insecurities that he asked his next question: "Am I too different?"

Instead of answering, she settled next to him and rested her head on his chest. His muscles were tense beneath her for the first few seconds, then relaxed as he pulled her even closer. She breathed in, relishing the scents of leather, mint and exotic spices. Fragmented memories, left over from her brief time with Jolinar, ran through her head. "My lifespan is an eye blink to you."

"I would prefer not to think about it."

"You would _prefer_ I was Goa'uld." She didn't look up, resolutely keeping her head in its current location.

"It would make this easier, yes." He shifted slightly, well aware that he was in a potential minefield. He caught her chin and lifted her head to face him. "But, the odds of finding one that you would... blend with... as well as we have? The chances of locating one that would not significantly change your personality? I would be more likely to discover that I truly _had_ created the universe." He chuckled. "I would imagine that I would know if I had done so...

"Perhaps if Egeria were still alive and we could find a young enough Tok'ra to be influenced by you - as opposed to the other way around." He toyed with her hair. "I cannot base my hopes upon fool's dreams, however."

She nuzzled back into him, pleased by his sincerity. A stray thought passed through her mind. "You've never even kissed me."

"Is that a complaint? I have been trying to abide by your species' traditions of courtship." His hand slowly traced up and down her spine. "Have I offered an inadvertent insult?"

She smiled. "No. You've just been too subtle for your own good. I didn't even realize that you were interested."

"I shall endeavor to be more direct with you in the future, at least in private." He shuddered. "Though, not at the present time. I need to recover from the trauma. That was a truly revolting meal."

He had to grin at her snicker, even if it was at his expense.

* * *

Jolinar came out of her third wormhole and settled to one side of it to recover from her lingering shock. Ba'al, a System Lord that had made even Ra nervous, was _allied_ with the Tau'ri. He _cared_ for a Tau'ri female, one _without_ a symbiote. He _let_ her dictate his actions... It was _unthinkable._

Her host, still recovering from the blending, seemed amused. _Ba'al's affections towards her are the worst kept secret on the ship. All know of it. The Jaffa consider her their new Queen, even without a symbiote._

Jolinar shuddered. _It's repulsive._

The symbiote was hard pressed to decide which aspect of the situation was more disgusting: that a human would love a Goa'uld, or that one - even nominally - of her race would love a human that didn't bear a symbiote. She frowned at that. Perhaps she was more of a Goa'uld than she had believed.

* * *

_Well, that was... not easy to write. I'm still not quite happy with it. Oh well... _

_Jolinar is slowly facing some rather disturbing discoveries about herself, isn't she? _

_Meanwhile, we have Ba'al and Sam... Wonder what the NID will do when they find out about this burgeoning relationship? What will the Tok'ra high council say about his alliance with Earth? How about the System Lords? Anyone want to lay odds on the Tok'ra leaking the information – and whether they do so deliberately or accidentally?_

_Thank you for the review, Ranger99. I hope this lives up to your expectations. Exposure to the rest of the universe is coming very soon._


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer**

_Ba'al showed up to pledge his undying loyalty last night - in my dreams.  
As I doubt that is a binding legal contract, I don't own him.  
I do hope he shows up again tonight..._

* * *

**Part Six**

"Linea! _The_ _Linea? _Of '_Destroyer of Worlds'_ fame?"

Sam cringed as Ba'al's harmonic-laced shout echoed through the SGC. No one came running, though, as the topic was fairly easy to determine. None of the residents were pleased with how those events played out, and theories had been running rampant as to his response. Three rooms away, actually, a pair of scientists exchanged currency. "Um... Yes?"

"I go away for _one month_!" He scratched a hand across his short-cropped hair, turning to face a workbench so that he didn't strangle her. Several deep breaths later, his voice was calmer and more human. "I don't suppose that it occurred to any of you that prisons exist for a _reason?_" He grumbled under his breath in Goa'uld for a few moments, then seated himself at the bench. "What _else_ did I miss?"

She swallowed. "A planet where everyone was living in a virtual reality, Daniel got addicted to a sarcophagus, and we met Thor of the Asgard?... On the bright side, I think he almost killed Heru'ur."

Ba'al gave up and lightly dropped his head on the table. "I don't know where to begin." He looked at up at her with tired eyes. "I just spent the last month communicating with the other System Lords, doing what you call 'spin control,' in preparation for Jolinar revealing what she knows. I _had_ convinced them that I was keeping _them_ safe from _you_."

She winced. "Well... it was the Asgard, not us. Technically."

He nodded and started fiddling with a piece of technology. He decided not to tell her that Earth was technically considered a part of his territory. _That_ had taken some maneuvering. None of the others really wanted the hassle, but to let someone else take it on was to lose an opportunity for greater renown. "I apologize for yelling. It was... uncivil."

She wrapped arms around him from behind. "I would probably have been angry, too, if we had known who Linea was when we met her."

His hands settled on hers. "I'm going to have to send out scouts and alert the other System Lords. We can't have her running around loose."

"I know." She nuzzled his spine and felt his symbiote shift slightly in response. "I did miss you, though... If it helps."

"From you? Always." He left her hands where they were and continued his earlier fiddling. Most of his mind was occupied with the debate on how to 'spin' these new problems. Though, if Heru'ur had assaulted a Protected Planet, he did have some leverage...

She sighed. "Just promise me something?"

"Mm?" The device – soon to be a new power coupling for the Gate – was taking shape under his hands. "What would you have of me?"

"Promise me that you won't go to Cimmeria? It's back under Thor's protection. We only have permission for Teal'c to visit." She rested her cheek on his back.

"An easy promise to make and to keep. It is a Protected Planet under the Treaty." He couldn't imagine Yu being pleased at the prospect of war with the Asgard...

She laughed. "I guess I should have remembered that."

"I don't recall mentioning it. Though, I suppose your interaction with Thor should have been a very large clue." He set down the completed coupling and pulled her into his lap, diverting his attention to more immediate issues. "Now, tell me about this addiction..."

* * *

The Tok'ra High Council was in an uproar. Jolinar of Malkshur had returned with astonishing and disturbing news. The Tau'ri, long-revered example of a world that had thrown off Ra's iron grip, had not only rejoined the rest of the universe but were now openly allied with a Goa'uld. And, not just any Goa'uld: they'd joined forces with Ba'al.

The news of his sparing Jolinar's life, however, was met with great suspicion. A few quietly reminded the others that Jolinar had begun her life not as a child of Egeria, but as a Goa'uld. That Jolinar seemed to be conflicted on the matter... It only added fuel to the fire.

One supposed Tok'ra was quite pleased to have something to report.

* * *

He was staring at a television when the base alarm sounded. Ba'al eyed his watch – a recent gift from Sam – and sighed. She'd just returned from yet another planet. He pondered the amount of time she would take in the infirmary and debriefing. He shut off the television and rose to change his clothes. As he prepared to meet her in the lab, he had to laugh about what he'd been watching. How many worlds would create an entire documentary on how beer created civilization? Not that it wasn't a pleasant drink, but still... _beer?_

The Tau'ri truly were unique.

He strolled casually into the lab, only to see a strange orb with symbols etched into it. He quirked an eyebrow and frowned. "What is that?"

Sam glanced over. "We're not sure. We found it on the planet we just went to. It seems to be the source of the EM radiation we were searching for."

"Just so that we're clear, Samantha. You've brought an unknown alien device into your base of operations from a dead world. An alien device that has a power source you know nothing about." At her nod, he sighed and admitted that 'unique' didn't begin to cover the Tau'ri. Maybe the Tok'ra were right, to a point, about reckless youth. "Have you made any progress deciphering the script?"

Daniel hummed slightly. "Not as of yet. Care to grab a notepad?"

"Why not?" If they were going to get into trouble, at least he could be there to get them out of it. Or, at least, get Sam out of it. Which amounted to the same thing, really. She'd probably be very angry if he followed through on the temptation to place her safely under lock and key.

* * *

Much later, the Stargate shut off and Ba'al eyed the General. "A suggestion, from one leader to another?"

Hammond sighed. "Go ahead."

He gave a humorless smile. "It might be wise to save yourself similar trouble in the future: set up labs to study dangerous alien artifacts on the worlds from whence they came."

He was relieved to see the General smirk, instead of take offense. At least, until the man spoke. "A very good idea... What world did you come from again?"

At Sam's quiet snicker behind him, he relaxed his shoulders. "I suppose I strolled into that."

Jack snorted. "Usually, it's 'walked' but I'd say you _strode_ _arrogantly_ into that."

"Colonel O'Neill, learn to speak your language before you advise others on its use." Ba'al shot him a grin and waited for the next volley. The symbiote wondered if this was what it felt like to have human friends: mindless terror for their safety followed by near-giddy relief.

The host smiled mentally. _Yes. Yes, it is._

Their burgeoning snark-fest was cut off by Hammond. "Gentlemen, I expect Doctor Fraiser is waiting for all of you."

* * *

He was deeply engrossed in his work when the footsteps echoed through the room. He pulled another crystal and ran a scanner over it, frowned, then eyed the sarcophagus. He slotted the crystal back into place. "You look like you're busy."

He looked up and acknowledged his visitor. "Colonel O'Neill."

"Jack."

"Pardon?" He pulled another crystal out and scanned it.

"After all the time you've spent here – which I think is now officially more than you spend on your ship – you can call me 'Jack.'"

He glanced up to see the human leaning over the sarcophagus in an attempt to observe his actions. "I see. Very well, _Jack_. How did your team fare on the trip to Chulak?"

"It was... an education." He plucked a crystal out of the array and ignored Ba'al's stare. "Apophis is apparently pretty good at brainwashing kids... Why do we have a sarcophagus in the SGC? Danny isn't going to like this. Or he'll like it too much." The colonel frowned. "I'm actually more worried about the second option."

Ba'al gently took the crystal away and settled it back into place. "It is here because your Doctor Fraiser cannot remain on my ship for long periods of time. As I was informed by your General Hammond, she is needed 'on base' in case of an emergency. Therefore, the experiment had to come to her."

Jack shot him a skeptical look. "Experiment?"

Ba'al sighed and scanned another crystal. "Do you read any of your memoranda?"

"Pretend I don't."

He selected another crystal to scan. "In the wake of Doctor Jackson's issues during his most recent encounter with the sarcophagus, I mentioned an interest in attempting to alter the sarcophagi to limit or eliminate the addictive properties. Your general was pleased with the idea and wanted to assist. As Doctor Fraiser desired to oversee some aspects of the research and it is expected to take several months to complete, you have a sarcophagus in your facility."

"Heh." Jack settled on the floor nearby, watching as Ba'al carefully shaped one of the crystals into a new form. He made a mental note to avoid playing with that particular tool. He liked his fingers the way they were. "I have a question."

"That is a surprise."

"Funny. Do Goa'uld get addicted to this thing? And, has Doc Fraiser mentioned Cassie to you?"

The System Lord paused and stared at him for a moment. "No, we do not. Our symbiotes are able to regulate the chemical interactions in the brain that would cause such a problem." He returned to working. "And, no, she hasn't. Who or what is a 'Cassie?'"

"Cassandra? Her adopted daughter?"

Ba'al set his tools down and started tracing circuits. "I was unaware that the Doctor had taken in a child. Is she unable to have one of her own?"

"Um. I didn't ask." Jack rubbed the back of his neck. He was mildly uncomfortable with both the idea of a Goa'uld soliciting gossip and the request he was going to make. "Look, Nirti put some sort of bomb in her. It'll go off if she stays too near the Stargate. It... disintegrates or something when it's not near the Gate and we can't take it out when she is. It'd kill her."

"Hmm. A conundrum... I assume that your species' various filtering therapies have been attempted?"

"I think so? Maybe?... Do you think this doohickey could fix her?"

Ba'al frowned. "Possibly. If I knew what to look for. However, unless she is injured, she runs the same risk of addiction that Doctor Jackson faced and the attempt may require several sessions. I doubt that Doctor Fraiser would be amenable to my repeatedly injuring her daughter over the course of the treatment, adopted or no, in order to avert such an eventuality."

"Right." Jack leaned against the sarcophagus and sighed. "But if you get this thing fixed?"

"If the testing is successfully resolved _and_ we move the sarcophagus to a sufficient distance from the Stargate... I see no reason not to make the attempt."

"Thanks, buddy." He eyed Ba'al. "You're not going to tell her we talked about this, are you?"

"I see no reason to elevate her hopes, only to dash them if there is not a successful test."

Jack grinned. "You're more human than I thought."

"Keep insulting me, _Jonathan_, and you can be the first test subject."

"No need to get mean about it... Sheesh." Jack wandered towards the doorway, then looked back. "Would it fix my knees?"

"As I become better acquainted with you, amputation is appearing a far more attractive option."

* * *

"I can't believe that they let you come. Especially with the General still angry about how you lied to him regarding Jolinar's presence." Sam smiled at Ba'al, ignoring Jack's muttered comments as he slipped away to get a drink. "I think you're the first real alien we've had visit Washington."

He shot her an amused glance. "The General didn't tell you about our conversation?" She looked at him curiously. "It is not my problem if he can't recognize the subtext of an interaction that occurred - literally - in front of him. And, I informed him that I would land a tel'tak on the White House lawn if he didn't allow me to join you any other way."

She gave a chuckle. "Blackmail. I should have known."

"You are being honored by your people, Samantha. I could not be anywhere else..." He lightly brushed the backs of his fingers across her cheek. "Your 'dress uniform' is lovely."

She decided to allow the subject change and eyed him, noting the way his shoulders filled out the dark pinstripe suit. "You don't look so bad, yourself."

Hammond caught their attention from across the room and gestured them over. The man he was conferring with turned and Sam stilled. Concerned, Ba'al touched her elbow. "Samantha?"

"Dad."

She was frozen in place. Ba'al squeezed her elbow and she jumped. "It will be all right." She blinked and he sighed. "I believe it is customary to introduce the man who is courting you to your father, is it not?"

She smiled at him, walked over and hugged her father. General Hammond smiled, then nodded at Ba'al before turning his attention back to Sam. "I invited Jake myself, Major. I thought you might enjoy the surprise."

The System Lord inwardly snorted. He was well aware that this semi-forced introduction was at least partly in revenge for his previous ultimatum. Tau'ri could be so petty at times. Samantha turned to the General. "Really, sir? That's sweet."

She looked at her father. "George and I served together back when the Air Force really was this country's first line of defense."

He could feel her bristle. "It still is."

"Of course it is, I was talking about the Cold War. Anyway, when George told me you were up for the Air Medal for your work..." He turned to George. "What the hell was that again?"

Ba'al was glad that he had clasped his hands behind his back and prayed that no one heard the cracking sound his wrist bones made as they ground together in his grip. This was her father and he was belittling her career? Didn't he care that it brought her fulfillment? She had saved his life and the lives of every person on this pathetic world! Remaining silent took almost more discipline than he thought he had.

Sam was obviously displeased, but she remained civil. "Analysis of Deep Space Radar Telemetry."

"Right." The System Lord eyed him, more than slightly certain that General Carter was not convinced of the tale. Honestly, he'd like to have a chat with the person that devised that cover story. It wouldn't fool a child.

"Dad, I'd like you to meet... Ba'al. Ba'al, this is my father."

He held out his uninjured right hand in the traditional Tau'ri greeting. "General. It is a pleasure."

Jack rejoined them and passed drinks to Sam and Ba'al. Hammond took over the introductions. "Colonel Jack O'Neill, I'd like you to meet General Jacob Carter."

"Carter? As in?"

"As in my father, sir. Yes." She smiled pleasantly at Jack. The Goa'uld could tell she was playing that game she had previously mentioned to him... What was it? 'Anywhere But Here?'

"Sam's dad?" Jack reached out to shake his hand. "I've heard nothing about you, sir."

Jacob seemed amused by Jack's dubious – in Ba'al's opinion – charms. "What is there to say about an old general, waiting to retire?"

"Dad, I talk about you all the time."

Ba'al coughed into his drink and offered an apologetic smile at the glances. "Pardon."

The rest of the conversation lived up to its horrible beginnings. Sam trying to cover for her team, her project and her displeasure with her father. To his credit, Ba'al turned on the charm and did his best to steer the conversation away from anything that might bring further upset. He did, eventually, allow General Hammond to direct him towards some other 'interested personages' that he needed to meet.

He kept a wary eye on Samantha, however, and slipped a comforting arm around her waist when she rejoined them. It was an action that didn't go unnoticed. He soon found himself dodging a potentially rabid father. Hammond was terribly amused and kept pointing him out to the other General. Sam wasn't much help, either, as she made excuses to leave them alone when he was finally cornered.

"Ba'al, was it?"

"Indeed, General."

"Unusual name. Middle Eastern?" Jacob eyed him. "What, exactly, is your relationship with my daughter?"

"At present, verging on homicidal." The man's gaze sharpened and Ba'al gave him a slight smile. "I am courting her."

Jacob was taken aback. "That's an old term."

"I am very traditional in some ways, General."

The man frowned. "So... what? You're going to marry her and then expect her to stay home with the kids?"

Ba'al shook his head. "I would sooner attempt to teach a fish to pilot one of your F-18's. She would never be content."

Jacob relaxed somewhat. "So you have no intention of forcing her to abandon her career? Are you the reason she refuses to join NASA?"

The System Lord laughed. "If I had the authority, General Carter, she would be in space whenever she chose. It is not, however, a practical option at the present time and not my decision. I have been repeatedly informed of that fact by General Hammond."

Jacob had the feeling they were having two different conversations. The man was a bit formal, but still better than some of the ones Sam had previously brought home. He still remembered the tattooed biker during her college days. He sighed. "I worry about her."

Ba'al nodded. "Your concern is well founded. She has a tendency to charge headfirst into the strangest situations."

Jacob raised an eyebrow. "How did you meet my daughter?"

The System Lord chose to go with a technical truth. "I am a civilian consultant on her project."

"You're a scientist?"

"There is no need for disbelief." Ba'al gave him a bland look. "If you would care to test me on the subject, I would be quite happy to oblige. Should I start explaining visual and spatial distortions as mathematically described in accordance with relativistic theory and their relationship to telemetry data? Perhaps we can discuss the calculations for calibrating telescopic sensor arrays to account for the phenomenon?"

Jacob winced at the techno-babble. He'd understood most of the words. It was the combination that was confusing. "Ah... no. You've convinced me."

Ba'al noticed Jack and Hammond having a serious conversation. Best to keep the General's attention. "NASA?"

Jacob nodded, missing the swift exit of both men. "She's on the short list for becoming an astronaut. I called in a lot of favors to get her there. I can't believe she'd refuse..."

"Samantha has a strong sense of ethics. She is a credit your training." Ba'al's smile softened at Jacob's helpless sigh. He was obviously starting to realize where he'd miss-stepped in the conversation with Sam. "You love her and want her dreams to become reality."

"She's my daughter. You'll understand when you have children." Jacob's gaze was focused on his drink.

The System Lord contemplated him for a moment. On one hand, he was not terribly close to Samantha and, therefore, unlikely to be able to separate them. On the other... the affection between them was clear, even if they didn't get along. Best to forge a relationship now, than wait until it was too late.

"I did." The human looked up in surprise. "They are dead now."

"And their mother?"

"Deceased. In the same incident that took them from me." It was Ba'al's turn to stare at his glass in thought. He'd much rather glare at the necessity of sharing this information with all and sundry, but it would be inappropriate and convey the wrong impression. At this rate, half the galaxy would know his marital history.

"I'm sorry."

He nodded and made eye contact.. "It was... a long time ago, though it often feels as if it were less."

The General's gaze was searching his, looking for something. He seemed to find it. "You'll take care of her?"

"As much as she will permit." He gave a wry smile. "She is a strong woman."

Jacob snorted. "Tell me about it."

* * *

Sam walked into the lab where the sarcophagus was stored. Ba'al was leaning against the side, a panel pulled out, sound asleep. She sighed. He'd been pushing himself harder than before. She understood why. He'd begun obsessing over his experiment the moment he'd found out her father was dying of lymphoma.

As to whether he was trying to maintain her life after the reminder of her mortality, or save her the heartbreak of losing her father? That was up for debate. It could be both.

She brushed the backs of her fingers across his cheek, a gesture of affection learned from him, then gently shook his shoulder. "Ba'al?..."

His breath caught and his eyes fluttered open, only to blink at her. His lazy, half-asleep smile warmed her and inspired her own in return. It was unguarded – unrestrained – as he could only be in those hazy moments between. "Samantha."

"You can't be comfortable."

He stretched in response, bones cracking as his spine straightened. "Do not throw stones, madam. I am well aware of the number of times you have sought rest upon a laboratory table."

"Well, yes, but at least that wasn't the floor."

"Mm. The floor is far more comfortable, in my far from humble opinion." He grinned at her.

She laughed. "I think the phrase is 'in my humble opinion.'"

"I am never humble, my love." He tugged her into his lap and nuzzled her.

She blinked. "Am I?"

"Humble? Too much so, at times." His eyes were drifting shut again, sleep beckoning.

"Your love?"

That caught his attention and he pulled her far enough away to look at her face. "I threatened your general, inspired a renegotiation of our treaty – I'm still trying to figure out _why_ I can't tell anyone that I exist as you would think that the ability to see my presence would be proof enough – and am currently tearing my mind to shreds in an attempt to keep both you and your father from expiring any time in the next century... What cause have I given you to doubt it?"

She ran a sheepish hand through her hair. "When you put it like that..."

He sighed. "I know. This isn't easy for me, either. We are very different in some ways. Your culture prefers verbal confirmation. Mine is more..."

"Action?"

"Yes. Or, perhaps, 'reserved' is the term." He smiled as she leaned on him again. "I feel confirmation of your affections every time you permit me to touch, lean upon my shoulder or laugh at my incredible sense of humor."

"Definitely _not_ humble."

He grinned and ran a hand down her spine to encourage her to cuddle closer. "Even when you attempt to deflate my well-deserved ego, I can tell that it is done with devoted sentiment." His humor quickly faded. "It is... unwise for a Goa'uld to admit weakness. We find it best to keep our own counsel on such things, as tender feelings create bargaining tools and potential hostages."

"I can see where it would be well-ingrained habit, then."

"Indeed." He took a deep breath and she felt tension ripple through his muscles before the symbiote forcibly relaxed them. "If you need to hear the words, however... I do love you."

"I love you, too." Sam stood and pulled him to his feet. He was unresisting. "Right now, you need go to bed and get some sleep."

"As you command." His smile was tired, but he quickly packed away his tools and closed the panels on the sarcophagus. "Join me?" She nodded and they headed for his rooms, hands entwined. "Remind me later, I have a gift for you."

"Ooh. A naquadah generator?"

"So demanding..." His affectionate chuckle carried back behind them. "Not quite, but I'm sure you will appreciate what I have brought..."

Jack, standing just around the corner, shook his head. _A Goa'uld in love... Who'da thunk?_

* * *

The next morning found Sam and Ba'al in the firing range. Delicate pieces of golden metal were wrapped around her left hand. He wore a similar device on his, though he had his hand raised and had just blasted a silhouette target to tatters. "It's all a matter of concentration."

She frowned. "Do you really think they'll let me keep this?"

He leaned against the wall and chuckled. "As it is calibrated to respond only to someone bearing your genetic code, they have no choice unless they want to melt it down for its component minerals... I may have also mentioned that removing it from you would be considered a personal insult."

She laughed. "So, this is..."

"A kara kesh. Your people refer to it as the 'hand' or 'ribbon device.' Unlike the more limited hara kesh used by Ashrak, the kara kesh can serve a wide variety of offensive or defensive purposes, conduct scans, activate systems remotely, and allow for finer manipulation of many Goa'uld technologies."

"This one seems different from yours." She glanced at the thicker bands surrounding his wrist and the golden caps on his fingers.

"Your particular model is a newer design than mine. It is based upon research that was actually completed by Ra." He gave a wicked grin. "My spies stole it just before your friends killed him."

"Why give this to me now?"

"Until your... experience with Jolinar, you did not possess the naquadah in your blood that is required to power it. After that," he shrugged, "I had to wait for it to be constructed. It is a very intricate machine internally."

_And, I made a promise to your father. _His symbiote snorted – again – at his willing agreement to an impossible pledge.

"Oh." She faced down range, knowing that learning to use the kara kesh was more of a true appreciation to his mind than verbalized gratitude would ever be. "Okay. Concentration... Right."

* * *

Ba'al strode forcefully down the corridors of the SGC. He'd spent the last four hours closeted with varied 'NID goons.' Doctor Jackson's appellation for them was – he decided – highly appropriate. It wasn't so much that they wanted to know everything about galactic politics in one sitting, but that they were so closed-minded about it. They walked into it with a preconceived notion of their superiority...

Okay, so they had more than a bit in common with his own race. He couldn't stand most of _them_, either.

That their conversation had been little more than a smokescreen for weaseling further technological advancements out of him had not escaped his notice. Nor had the thinly-veiled insults and the attempts at intimidation. If he were of a less generous mind, they would have been rapidly steering him towards planetary bombardment as a long-term diplomatic solution. He was, in the wake of their so-called discussion, highly tempted.

He paused on entering 'his' lab. Sam was set up at a spare workbench with a laptop, busily tapping away at the keyboard. A half-eaten doughnut sat, forgotten and forlorn, off to the side. He stepped up beside her and eyed the schematics as they flashed across the screen. They were good. He revised the opinion after a few moments. They were very good. "Is that your new hyper-drive?"

"The wave generator, at least." She sighed and leaned back. He was close enough to her that her head wound up resting in the middle of his chest. He settled his hands on her shoulders. "I'm still having difficulty with power source and with sufficient miniaturization. This will never fit in a ship."

"Well, your could consider it in the reverse. Perhaps you should ponder making a ship big enough to hold it?" He started massaging her neck, working the tense muscles.

She laughed. "I've seen your ship, remember? We don't need something quite that massive."

"Not as of yet. However, if you intend to protect your planet, you will need to be able to wage war on a galactic scale. That requires being able to transport more infantry, fighters and supplies than your proposed ship will contain."

She groaned as the knots began to loosen. "True, but funding a ship that large is a massive undertaking. The Pentagon isn't going to do it if I can't come up with a smaller 'proof of concept' design."

"The true hyper-drive is usually only installed in ships of that magnitude for a reason. The cooling system required is almost twice the size of the engine." He leaned down and lightly brushed his lips across hers. "Perhaps you need to consider the possibility of a more efficient sub-light engine, instead. Ease them into the idea of faster than light travel. Once they see that you can deliver your promised work, they will be more inclined to offer their support."

She frowned. "Maybe. I just really want to get this working."

He brushed his finger across the small thought wrinkles that formed between her brows. "I know, my love. Still, smaller steps are frequently more productive for long term goals. A fact, I might add, that I spent the morning reminding your NID of... repeatedly."

"That bad?"

"They remind me of Ra, though their tactics are not nearly as refined."

Sam winced as he moved to sit next to her. "That inspires confidence."

"My confidence is with you and tenuously – at the moment – your current administration." He caught her hand. "I will review my opinion of the second as time passes."

She could only nod in agreement.

* * *

_On going back through the first two seasons, I find that there is little going on that is obviously political. (As we know, it's there. Just largely unseen.) Mostly, it's just SG-1 blundering about, causing trouble trying to make friends, and gaining a reputation in the greater galaxy. The hardcore politics came later, after they had established themselves as a 'Power.' At the moment, I'm trying to skim those filler episodes quickly and firmly establish both their alliance with Ba'al and his relationship with Carter. The alliance, itself, will also influence their burgeoning reputation – for better or for worse, depending on perspective._

_I didn't make a large issue of Apophis no longer being classed amongst the System Lords, as it really is a moot point for the Tau'ri. It's not as if Goa'uld regularly champion each other, fellow System Lords or no. After all, if you can't defend your own territory... _

_The System Lords rarely hold actual summits – usually it's only when there is a serious internal or external threat, to paraphrase the wiki. They are not a solid political entity. This makes actually depicting any dealings with them very difficult, as I can't get them into a room together or even on a single viewscreen. I'm trying to let Ba'al's thoughts, complaints and comments illuminate the situation for the present time._

_The documentary on beer does exist. It was put out by the Discovery channel in 2011 and is available on Netflix and YouTube. It's entitled: "How Beer Saved the World." It actually has some fairly decent points. I moved it back a few years, though, as I thought it would amuse him and allow for a good starting point for his thoughts on humanity._

_To my Guest reviewers - I'm glad you appreciate this so far. Keep in mind that I cannot send you replies, though, unless you sign the review._

_As a note – a lot of the dialogue between Sam, her father and the others was taken from the episode "Secrets."_


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer**

_Seriously, I DO NOT OWN THIS. Wish I did._

* * *

**Part Seven**

Ba'al, dressed reluctantly in scrubs, stood across from Doctor Fraiser and stared at Teal'c's back. "I haven't seen anything like this."

Janet nodded briefly as she collected a sample. "Shouldn't the larval Goa'uld be helping?"

"Prim'ta." Ba'al absently corrected. "It should."

"It is not. It is, in fact, getting worse." Teal'c's voice was raspy from pain.

Ba'al frowned and pulled out his healing device. Janet bagged the samples and the Jaffa watched the Goa'uld's actions impassively. He glanced at Janet. "I'll have Namzu come assist you."

She nodded and observed as Ba'al concentrated on the wound. A minute or so into the attempt, his eyes flashed as the symbiote took over. He made pass after pass with the implement and then frowned and lowered his hand. The harmonic in his voice had a sad, almost regretful, note to it. "This does not appear to be helping." He leaned in closer and then motioned for the small ruler. Janet passed it to him. He measured the lesion. "In fact, it has increased in size by three millimeters."

Neither of them commented on Janet's muttered curse.

* * *

The group, sans Teal'c, had gathered outside the door to the infirmary. Janet and Namzu were inside, conferring. Ba'al had silently exited earlier and was leaning sullenly against one wall. It was bad enough that, even with all his technology, he had failed to find a solution thus far. That he was failing someone he was rapidly coming to consider a friend was unforgivable.

Janet entered the corridor and Ba'al listened impassively to her commentary. He said nothing, lost in thought, until after Sam mentioned bringing in outside help. "Excess coding... A retrovirus?"

Janet blinked at him. "Retrovirus?"

He nodded. "That is what your people call them, is it not? I understand that there are attempts to use them to solve the issues with cancer and the various autoimmune viruses."

She let out a breath. "You're right. It does fit."

Namzu joined them. "My Lord, with your permission, I will return to the ship. I have duties there and I will examine the database to see if we have any information."

Ba'al nodded. "You may go."

* * *

Ba'al was not pleased with Doctor Harlowe. This was their expert. He inwardly snorted. It had taken the man almost an hour to validate a conclusion he'd come to in moments. Even more irritating, was that the 'good doctor' was the reason that the NID had been informed of the issue.

He couldn't stop the frown that formed on his face. On one hand, Teal'c had escaped NID custody. On the other hand, he had ripped out his own prim'ta. That action that had both host and symbiote shuddering. He couldn't be rational.

He strode into the medical lab and stared at the prim'ta in the tank. "Are you trying to kill it?"

Janet and Sam both turned to blink at him. Sam literally smacked her forehead. "Ba'al... How do we help it?"

He moved quickly around the lab, grabbing batteries and cobbling together a small item to add electrical current. He attached it to the tank and turned to Janet. "I need..." He grumbled. He really needed to review medical terminology in her language. He dipped his fingers into the water and tasted it. "Electrolytes. And...lipids in suspension. It's not warm enough..."

Minutes later, the young symbiote was much happier.

* * *

Ba'al snorted as he reclined on Jack's sofa. Drugs. Who would have thought? His kind had eschewed them for centuries. They were primitive, damaging, and... they worked.

He smirked at Daniel as he related the 'war games' Teal'c had indulged in with the Tau'ri child. The Jaffa added his own input. Doctor Jackson spent the conversation alternately complaining and grinning at the way he'd been assaulted. Teal'c was more concerned with him correctly describing the tactics he had taught and used. Jack's shoulders were shaking and he was biting his lip to keep from actively laughing at his friends. Sam had no such compunction. She had her head buried in Ba'al's shoulder and was futilely attempting to catch her breath.

Ba'al picked up his beer. "Teal'c, well done." At the Jaffa's nod, he took a sip and winced. Next time, he was bringing the refreshments. He didn't care what he'd have to do to get them through the SGC's idea of 'customs.'

* * *

"So, you have found the Tok'ra." Ba'al leaned against the table and watched the woman he would have as Queen.

"We think so, yes." She was double checking the contents of her pack, preparing to leave.

"Should you really be telling me this? I assume that you intend to try for an alliance with them, despite my sentiments on the topic." He absently fiddled with a Newton's cradle, watching the beads bounce back and forth. "You know my first inclination is to destroy them."

She sighed. "You're smarter than this, Ba'al. I know it still hurts, but it was several millenia ago." She stood and wrapped arms around his tense body. "We need an alliance with them, if we can get it."

He fought down his emotions and tried to see it logically. It had been brought home to him that he couldn't be everything she needed when Teal'c had nearly died. It hadn't been _him_ that saved her friend. A failure that left a bitter taste in his throat and caused his symbiote to twitch restlessly.

"If you believe that you need to do this, then you must." He returned her embrace and nuzzled into her hair. "Be careful. Their self-interest is just as deeply ingrained as that of my people."

"I will." She looked up at him. "Will you keep an eye on my father for me?"

"Of course."

* * *

The Tok'ra were less than welcoming. But, Sam admitted, any resistance against the Goa'uld would be suspicious of someone walking around with a Jaffa and allied with a System Lord. Thankfully, Jolinar had been with the group that found them. She obviously remembered Sam's intervention with Ba'al.

They were quickly escorted into the base.

* * *

Ba'al looked up as General Hammond entered the hospital room. "You might as well save your breath, he is as stubborn as his daughter." At the dirty look from both men, he sighed. "I believe there might be something in the cafeteria worth analyzing. I will return."

Later, Hammond and Ba'al both saw the doctors revive Jacob. The doctor mentioned the difficulty in determining how long he would live, then quickly left. Ba'al eyed the General, then shook his head at the man's questioning look. He kept his voice low. "I am sorry to say that... our techniques would be a temporary measure in this instance and require... repeated application." He touched the back of his neck. "Only a more permanent... relationship would be able to stem the advance of his illness and reverse the process."

He fought down the waves of despair at the disappointment on the general's face, and knew that Jacob wouldn't be given the clearance 'just' to receive long-term medical care. Especially since they didn't have the sarcophagus modified for safety. Tau'ri and their secrets... He didn't look forward to explaining the same to Samantha.

He had won so many battles and yet, like Jacob, he was loosing the one that counted.

* * *

Their meeting with Garshaw of Belote was tense. The question of trust was raised, repeatedly. Still, the discussion went a little better when Sam's story matched Jolinar's. Garshaw's host seemed to like them, though the others in the facility were more than a little nervous about having a Goa'uld's 'friends' in their base – much less Ba'al's apparent paramour. The looks they received were hostile, at best.

The Tok'ra were desperate for hosts. It was the many conversations that Sam had had with Ba'al that allowed her to recognize this fact immediately upon being shown Selmak. The Tok'ra were understandably disappointed that they didn't agree to blend. Still, at least they didn't take great offense at the refusal. They just decided that it meant Earth couldn't be trusted.

Sam didn't voice her own inward opinion: They wanted to make sure they could be trusted by allowing one of their operatives to have complete access to all their secrets. Yeah, that was _not_ going to happen. There was no way that any member of the Stargate program would be authorized to 'blend.'

It was only when they were in the Council meeting that Sam considered that Ba'al might have been correct. Their statements amounted to the basest self-interest. She restrained herself as well as she could until Colonel Makepeace arrived with news of her father and they were told that they would be kept and basically considered dead by their own people. There was no mention of release. The Tok'ra would not send them home.

Garshaw's statement that their world would be a 'priority target for the System Lords' infuriated her. "You're _serious_? I hate to be the one to tell you this, but _a _System Lord already knows precisely where you are. He knew that we were coming here to speak with you. He watched us dial the Stargate."

The Tok'ra reeled back in shock, but Sam wasn't done. "He knew that we came to offer alliance, and he _endorsed_ it. He wasn't pleased, called you a bunch of self-serving hypocrites, but he knew and agreed that we needed to meet with you. His only concern was that we be careful – that we keep ourselves from harm."

"He has almost burnt himself out trying to help us, stepped back when we needed him to and willingly shared everything that we're prepared to handle. He has talked us out of mistakes and shown far more tolerance than I could possibly have expected." Her hands clenched into fists as painful memories surfaced and threatened to overwhelm her. "A few members of my species tortured the both of us. He didn't destroy our planet. He didn't land troops and tear apart our people."

She gave a bitter laugh. "I know that I would have been tempted. Hell, I _was_ tempted to ask him to wipe the NID from the planet. What's more, he would have if I had just asked." She took a deep breath, ignoring the surprised noise Jack made. "But I didn't and so neither did he. I can't judge him on things that happened long before I was born. I can only base my opinion on what he is now. And he is a good man."

She ran a hand through her hair, dislodging her cap. "If we fail to make our check-in... If we don't return, he will let nothing stop him from either finding us or destroying whoever killed us. He will rain down fire and salt the earth. He will be a plague to your people. Nothing will stop him."

Cordesh snorted. "You speak like one of his priests."

She drew herself up, meeting his gaze with her own and drawing on her memories of Ba'al for strength. She felt warmth blossom inside. Her brief time with Jolinar supplied the words that she needed. Her tone was dignified, firm, and only as loud as it needed to be in order for them to hear. "No. I speak as his Queen."

There were mutterings, including some rather profane ones from Jack. Jolinar spoke over them. "'She is my Samantha, as I am her Ba'al.' He spoke those words to me, himself. Traditional words that haven't been used by any symbiote - of either sect - in thousands of years."

Everyone stilled. Cordesh glared at Sam. "She has no symbiote. He is merely toying with her."

Sam laughed. It was a deep, throaty noise. The feeling in her chest was manifesting in a strange confidence, as part of her realized exactly what he'd been trying to make her see over the past few months. Their lack of extended physical intimacy hadn't been just because he was 'traditional.' Though that played a part, he'd been trying to make her understand something that most human couples took for granted – something that he couldn't _afford_ to let her doubt about him. "He doesn't care. He would rather have _me_ than some power-hungry, psychopathic bitch wearing my body. It's my mind and soul that he loves. It's my mind and soul that he will mourn when I die."

"Yet, he lets you place yourself in such danger?" Garshaw looked doubtful.

Sam shrugged at her. "I wouldn't be me if he locked me away. I would be a... bare shadow of the woman he wants. He's no fool and he'd have to be not to see that."

She almost had them... and then they were informed of incoming Hat'aks.

* * *

Ba'al ducked into the men's room when his communicator chimed. A quick check ensured privacy. He pulled the device out. "Yes?"

Babati's voice echoed. "My Lord, two of Heru'ur's ships have entered one of your systems. They are..."

* * *

The evacuation was in full swing when another messenger arrived. Sam had been trying to convince the Tok'ra that her father would make a good host, but she stopped short at who accompanied the Tok'ra scout. "Ba'al..."

He nodded, retaining his regal bearing despite the number of weapons pointed at him. His voice was harmonic, a sign that she knew meant he was upset or worried. "Samantha." His gaze swept the room and landed on Garshaw. "I assume that you are one of the Council, from your attire?"

Garshaw nodded, in more than a little shock. "That is correct. Why has a System Lord come to our base?"

Said System Lord smirked. "Are you aware that you are in my domain?" At her nod, he gave a faint chuckle. "Two of Heru'ur's Hat'aks have been intercepted by my own. Officially, they are being assaulted for daring to violate the sanctity of my borders."

Garshaw blinked. "Why?... Why do this?"

He gave an elegant shrug. "If you must have a reason that suits you, then assume it is because I enjoy my human pets. If you want the truth, then it is because Samantha is desperately needed at home."

Sam's swallow was audible. Ba'al ignored the guards and crossed to her. "Your father hasn't much time."

She closed her eyes and nodded, leaning into him when his arms encompassed her. "They won't let us go. They... They said that we were never going home."

She felt the small lump in a pocket on his chest and recognized it for what it was: her kara kesh. They had stripped his from him and failed to search further. No Goa'uld carried a backup, after all. He quirked an eyebrow when she looked up at him. She gave a marginal shake of her head, which was returned with just the slightest nod of acknowledgment. He would follow her lead.

Their exchange went unnoticed, having taken less than a second. "Will the sarcophagus cure my father?"

His bearing was unchanged, just as arrogant as ever. Still, she saw the apology in his gaze. "It is not a permanent cure, I am afraid. In the short term, it can return him to health. However, the genetic markers that cause his disease are... virulent and the issue would recur. He would require repeated application to live for any amount of time. I believe we all find that to be nonviable."

They both ignored Jack's quiet, "Ya think?"

Garshaw watched the interaction, baffled and bewildered. No Goa'uld showed affection so openly. It wasn't done. It was all but taboo. And to allow a human to speak so familiarly in his presence? No System Lord would have permitted it.

She stumbled for a moment, unsure of how to address the human, before finally settling upon the title she was originally introduced with. "Major Carter, do you believe that your father will agree to host a Tok'ra symbiote?"

She stepped away from Ba'al and frowned. "I can only say that it is likely."

Ba'al's attention returned to Garshaw. "Very likely. He is just as stubborn and full of life as his daughter."

Garshaw eyed him with distrust. "Two may leave. The Goa'uld and the others stay to ensure your return."

Ba'al looked mildly affronted at the tone when she referred to him, but nodded regally. His voice had slipped back into human levels. "We are content to remain."

Garshaw's head snapped back as if she had been slapped. "You are... blended."

Sam and Jack followed one of the guards out as Ba'al laughed quietly, viciously. "I was once one of you. Didn't your Jolinar tell you that? I know Samantha revealed it to her."

"We... did not believe her. The Tok'ra are for life."

He snorted. "The Tok'ra. So sure of their supremacy and their cause. Tell me, how many must die before you stand and fight? How many would rally to your cause were you to raise your banners high? Instead, you hide like rats and allow atrocities to continue."

"Goa'uld atrocities!"

"The Tau'ri have an interesting saying, 'All that it takes for evil to win is for good men to do nothing.' My Queen tells me that a good man does not stand by and 'do nothing.' Therefore, I contend that they are just as much your responsibility as they are the responsibility of the System Lords."

Garshaw took a step back, but Ba'al continued before she could speak. "Do you not wonder why you continue to lose contact with those spies you send to my realm? They are not dead. They become my allies - my people – and work to ensure the safety and security of the humans under my rule. They know that, at least with me, they can make a difference. My premier healer, Namzu, is known to you. He once bore another name: Ashur of the Tok'ra."

A split second of silence was broken as a dozen cries of dismay wafted around the room. Ashur had been a great loss. Though he had despised war, he had willingly followed the command to spy on Ba'al. His disappearance had been mourned for years. Some still mourned him.

Garshaw rallied. "And, yet, you would fool civilizations into believing that you are their god! You would sacrifice them on your own personal mountain of pride!"

He gave her a flat, level stare. "You have been in my territories. How are the people treated when compared to others? Are they healthy? Are they happy?"

"That is beside the point!" Her eyes were glowing in rage.

"Is it?" He noticed the others had quieted, content to listen to the debate. "We _are_ above them, to an extent. We have knowledge and wisdom that they do not. In a sense, our technological marvels _are_ magic to them. Our long lives make them believe us to be greater than they."

He shrugged. "If it comforts them to believe us to be gods, to be beings that must be worshiped and praised, then that is what we must be. In us, they find comfort in the knowledge that 'there are no accidents' and that they are not merely creatures that will live and die in obscurity. They have hope that they are – perhaps – loved by a entity more powerful than themselves..."

His expression was serious, sincere. "They need that belief in order to aspire to be more than they are. They need it when they – or their families – lie dying. That hope, that ephemeral dream of blessing, is perhaps the greatest gift we can give them. Would you deny them the care of even a false god that, at the very least, answers some of their prayers? Even if I fail in some things, I can offer them guidance and support when crops fail and plagues spread."

Teal'c's eyes had widened minutely in surprise at the impassioned, though quiet, speech. Daniel knew that expression was as good as gaping for the normally stoic man. He considered Ba'al's words. He'd never pondered that side of the debate. He knew that he had prayed to Ra and the others when his parents had been killed. His pleas for their return hadn't been answered, but he had still found some peace as a result of his belief in an afterlife.

The knowledge that the gods were uncaring, unfeeling aliens had left him far more hollow than any ridicule he had experienced in his time as an academic. The idea that a Goa'uld could serve a purpose, no matter how small, as a force for good in the religious development of a world was revolutionary. He'd argued before that power brought responsibility, and here was Ba'al saying that he was doing his best to uphold that. A feeling of rightness settled into place inside him.

Garshaw recovered her voice. "The _audacity!_ To try to make your self-serving agenda a service to the people you would oppress?"

Ba'al cocked his head. "How do _I_ oppress them?"

"... You stop them from growing as a people!"

"How?" He seemed genuinely curious. "I do not stop them from developing art, music, or literature. That nonsense was Ra's foolishness, and we all saw how well it worked out for him. I do not prevent them from developing new technologies, should they choose to explore their worlds in such a manner. Once they have reached a reasonable level of technological advancement, I reveal myself for what I am – the warlord that has protected them from those fouler than himself – and I offer my continuing protection."

"And their payment for that protection?" Cordesh cut in with a sneer.

Ba'al glanced at him, then directed his answer at Garshaw. "They are not to associate with worlds that haven't achieved that level of advancement, so that they may develop normally. Their Stargates are shut down and a security net placed to allow me to monitor for other Goa'uld that might compromise them. A quarterly tithe of supplies is established and a building designated for the willing recruitment of Jaffa and hosts."

Garshaw blinked. "We had wondered why so many of your worlds became unreachable just as they were beginning to understand. But, how do we know that those worlds are not in far worse a condition than you would have us believe?"

He nodded agreeably. "You will assume the worst, I'm sure. From what I recall, Tok'ra are very pessimistic. I will take you to visit one such planet and prove my assertions, if that is your desire."

Cordesh snorted. "Such lofty statements, and yet you ally with the System Lords."

Ba'al gave him a bland smile. "I _am_ a System Lord. I _am_ host to a Goa'uld. It is the proper word for the symbiote and not a system of ideals, after all. In the protection of my peoples, I am required to be a warlord and a politician. To this end, that is what I have willingly become. I do not forget – both host and symbiote will never forget – what it felt like to be at the 'mercy' of the other System Lords and the Tok'ra."

Daniel marveled. Many of the murmurs in the room had changed to agreement, or at least consideration of his arguments. For all his fleets and weaponry, Ba'al's most finely-honed weapon was his voice. He suppressed a grin as he pictured him on the floor of Congress or the UN. The world would never be the same...

Cordesh, however, was incensed. Logically, he should have maintained his position with the Tok'ra and merely informed the other System Lords of Ba'al's duplicity. There would be war as they sought to destroy the dissident, but he would still be able to gather intelligence. In practice, few Goa'uld believed in or used anything approaching logic – especially not when they were furious. He snatched a weapon from one of the guards and leveled it at Ba'al. "You are a traitor to the Goa'uld!"

The guards moved to stop him, but they were too late. He pulled the trigger. The blast impacted the System Lord in the chest. The force of the blow knocked Ba'al back slightly, and Daniel caught him as he fell to the ground. The guards had wrestled the weapon away from the spy, and Garshaw was barking furious orders to detain him and search his belongings.

Noting that the situation was being contained, Teal'c hovered over the pair as Ba'al's eyes fluttered open. "Doctor Jackson..."

Daniel pillowed the man's head on his lap. "Don't talk, we'll get you a healer."

A faint smile flickered across Ba'al's lips. "Remind me that I owe Samantha a new kara kesh."

"You'll tell her your... What?" The archaeologist blinked down at him.

Ba'al slid one hand into his robes and pulled out the mangled piece of metal. Parts of it were glowing from heat. "I seem to have broken the one I gave her."

Realizing that Ba'al wasn't going to die, Daniel rolled his eyes. "Are you sure you're not the queen in your relationship? And, by that, I mean the _drama_ _queen_."

Ba'al snorted at the joke and winced. "You have spent far too much time with Colonel O'Neill." Daniel helped him sit up, and Ba'al's hand went to his chest. "I am glad I wore my new armor beneath my robes. Even with the deflection the kara kesh provided, I doubt I would have survived otherwise."

He glanced over at the arguing Tok'ra. "Doctor Jackson, would you mind asking them for some place I can rest until my ribs are healed."

"It's Daniel." He gave a little chuckle, seeing a few staring in their astonishment that the Goa'uld still lived. "And, no, I don't mind asking."

* * *

They arrived back at the complex to find a maelstrom of activity. Jacob was alternately trailing behind and moving ahead as his attention was captured by new things. His mind was spinning with concepts and questions that he wanted to ask, but he knew he didn't have the time. His introduction to Teal'c was quick and hurried, but he was more interested in the information Sam was receiving from one of the Tok'ra: a woman named Jolinar.

"You were correct. I stand before you and offer apology, Samantha. He is far different than what we had believed."

Sam smiled at her as they walked. "I know. Oh... This is my father, Jacob Carter. Dad, this is Jolinar of Malkshur."

"It's a pleasure." He eyed the petite woman. It was hard to believe that she was an alien.

Jolinar nodded in response, then turned back to Sam. "Ba'al is resting with Selmak, at Selmak's request."

"Resting?" Sam's voice went up a bit at the end. Goa'uld seldom needed to rest during the day. Not unless there was a problem. "What happened?"

"Calm yourself, he will be fine." Jolinar turned and led the way to Selmak's rooms, speaking as she walked. "One of our number was a spy for the.. System Lords. He attempted to kill your mate."

Jacob stumbled as the last sentence registered in his brain, only for Jolinar to catch his arm. Her grip was like iron. "Mate?"

Sam bit her lip. "There's a few things I haven't explained yet, Dad. I will though."

"You better." He gave her his best 'stern father' expression.

Sam nodded. "Continue?"

Jolinar released him, but kept a wary eye in case of a repeat of his near-fall. "Cordesh shot him with a staff weapon. Had it not been for your kara kesh and his own armor, we would be having a very different conversation. As it is, he merely needed to rest and heal a few broken ribs."

"My kara kesh." Sam didn't know what to say. She doubted that they appreciated him smuggling her a weapon.

"Indeed. It was destroyed due to taking most of the heat of the blast. I believe that your Doctor Jackson is to remind him to get you a new one." Jolinar looked mostly amused, to Sam's relief.

"A new one. Great. Just how many people am I going to nearly lose in one day?" Her companions pretended not to notice the rest of what she muttered to herself.

When they entered the room, Sam was next to Ba'al in an instant. He was shirtless, letting one of the Tok'ra poke at his chest and spread a salve on it for pain. He smiled up at her. "Hello, my Queen."

Sam blushed. Apparently, someone had filled him in on her part of the argument with the Council. She drew herself up, determined to be a credit to him. "My Lord. Are you well?"

A chuckle made it's way out of his chest. "I will be fine, Samantha." He looked past her. "General Carter, you seem to be feeling better than when we last spoke."

"Hope will do that for you." Jacob didn't understand the pointed glance at the woman standing across from Ba'al, but he didn't care. He moved to the platform that passed for a bed. "Is this Selmak?"

Ba'al spoke before the others could. "No. This is Saroosh. She is Selmak's current host."

Jacob looked at him, noticing that he'd switched to a harmonic voice. "Am I talking to Ba'al?"

Ba'al smiled. "We are both Ba'al. We agreed upon that the very day that we blended. We both discarded our old names and chose a new one to represent us."

"Will I have to...?"

"Not unless you both choose to do so." He shook his head, then nodded at the medic in thanks as he made to withdraw. "In this, as far as we are aware, we are unique amongst our kind."

"Oh." Jacob looked down at the host. "So... now what?"

The woman on the table spoke. "Now we talk. Blending lasts for a very long time, and I want to make sure I will like you."

Ba'al looked at him, and spoke in a human voice. "_That_ is Selmak." He pulled himself to his feet, and Jacob noticed the bruises on his chest had reduced dramatically since he had entered. "We will leave you to become acquainted."

"Ba'al..." Sam caught his arm.

He brushed the back of his fingers across her cheek. "This is a very intimate thing, Samantha. Only those he considers family should be present."

"Ba'al." He faced her father. "As I understand it, you've all but married my daughter."

"That is correct. The... marriage only had for her to accept it in front of someone who had witnessed my statement, which she did." She could feel the tension in the arm under her hand. He was – she realized – afraid that he was about to be rejected by her family. Or her.

He considered it for a moment. "Then, one, call me 'dad.' And, two, that makes you family." Jacob met his eyes. "Please, stay."

Ba'al looked around the nearly empty room. Garshaw, Martouf and Jolinar had withdrawn. Even the rest of SG-1 had left. "I cannot do so in public, as it will cause issues diplomatically, but I will be proud to call you.. 'dad' in private."

Jacob nodded, then turned back to Selmak. "So, let's talk."

Ba'al eased himself down on the bench, still a little sore. His Queen settled beside him, and he wrapped an arm around her. He tugged her against the uninjured side of his chest. The tension drained from his body and he nuzzled her hair.

* * *

The Gate shut off and Jack glared at Ba'al. "I don't believe it. They won't give us the time of day, yet they're willing to be absorbed into your intelligence network."

"Provisionally, assuming that I prove my assertions to them, some of them are planning to do so. Others will strike out on their own and create more chaos for me to handle." A wry smile twisted his features. "They are prejudiced in a way that you do not understand, Jack. Your lives are very short to a symbiote. In their minds, you cannot hope to achieve the wisdom that they have attained."

"So they think we're what? Monkeys?"

He considered the question as they started their walk to the infirmary. The symbiote spoke. "Yes. That would be a close approximation. My... relatives can be very short-sighted. They do not open themselves to many possibilities that I have seen become reality."

"They seemed to think that a Goa'uld could become addicted to the sarcophagus." Daniel, not privy to that earlier conversation, shot Jack a curious look.

Ba'al sighed. "If a symbiote chooses not to regulate the endorphins, and it is used too frequently, then the _host_ can become addicted... It is very rarely possible for the_ symbiote_ to do so. However, many Goa'uld use it to control strong-willed hosts. I spoke to you of proper usage and was unclear in my response. I apologize for not elaborating further."

"Huh." Jack cocked his head to one side. "All things in moderation?"

"Precisely."

"So, how come it seems like it 'drains the good' out of them?"

"Morality is a human trait, Colonel. Once the host no longer cares about it, neither does the symbiote. By nature, a Goa'uld is an aquatic predator. It is not - and never will be - a saint."

* * *

_Okay, I'll admit it. I like tossing Ba'al around a little. It's the whole, 'he's closer to invulnerable' thing. I like to see that actually used instead of just talked about. _

_I went back and reviewed the series, **again.** It seems that I made a larger mistake than I thought. Carter wasn't a Colonel or a Major at the start. She was a Captain. I really boosted her rank, didn't I? Since I'm too lazy to go back and change every instance and then republish, we're going to go with the excuse of this being an alternate universe. She got promoted a little bit sooner than we thought and is a Major._

_For those who have read Beginnings: Ba'al, I found the story that mentioned the plague. It's "Not Your Everyday Circumstance" by Misaffection on Dreamwidth. The story is in two parts and contains graphic descriptions, so read at your own risk. The first part is fairly grim and the whole thing is definitely NC-17. The plague is discussed in the second part._

_Thanks to kc5mzr for reviewing!_


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer**

_Don't own. Want to. Can I get a life-sized Ba'al?_

* * *

**Part Eight**

Sam stepped out of the office and leaned against the wall. She'd just spent the last forty-five minutes being chewed out by General Hammond for her impromptu marriage. Fortunately, most of it had been complaints about not being invited to the festivities. She and Ba'al were now under direct order to throw a reception.

He'd also, he told her, informed the President that everyone on base knew about the relationship – even the Security Office – and that they had given their seal of approval. So, she wasn't going to be subjected to a court martial for creating a security risk. That they normally didn't permit people with her clearance level to marry foreign nationals was beside the point. It was done and, as he'd commented, they couldn't afford to lose her mind or Ba'al's cooperation.

He was tearing his remaining hair out when it came to the required clearance check for her new husband. How do you do a security check on a man that is the head of his own nation? They had no contacts with which to do so. They couldn't exactly call his internal security force, ask them what they thought, and expect the truth... At least they could point to his previous actions and say that he seemed to have their best interests at heart. That was more than they got with some.

That her father was now a member of the Tok'ra and a nominal member of Ba'al's forces made him the impromptu ambassador to Ba'al's people. As he'd recognized the marriage, that made it legal for the United States. Officially, since he had no last name, he was now Ba'al Carter for paperwork.

She eyed the stack of paperwork in her hands and wondered if Ba'al actually wanted her to fill out the naturalization forms for him. As a citizen, he wouldn't be allowed a private army. But, as that army existed prior to naturalization... And, was she married to the symbiote or host? Both? She really needed to talk to both her husband and JAG about this.

Not that she could, at the moment. He'd had to leave almost immediately after their return in order to deal with the Tok'ra. She fought down the urge to stomp around childishly. She hadn't even gotten a honeymoon, yet.

* * *

Three weeks and one hour after he had left, Ba'al entered his personal quarters at the SGC to find Sam waiting for him. He toed off his boots, dropped his coat onto a chair and crawled – mostly clothed – onto the bed next to her. He was thankful she didn't make him choose between either her or the bed right now, as he wasn't sure which one he'd pick. An admission, he had no doubt, that would make his marriage miserable if he had voiced it.

He rested his head on her shoulder, sighing at the chance to finally relax. Her arms wrapped around him and her nails lightly scratched through his close-cropped hair. "How did it go?"

"Three weeks of shepherding contentious and mildly-hostile Goa'uld in the same ship as two thousand loyal Jaffa. I am simply glad that we are not at war." He buried his nose in her neck. "I think the high point was when one asked whether I had 'lowered myself' to bed my Queen."

She frowned. "I'm glad I wasn't there. I would have decked him for that."

"I nearly did." He snorted. "Babati preempted me. That he did so, made it an issue of apologies and diplomacy instead of near-automatic war."

"So..." She paused, unsure of how to phrase it. "Are you too tired to confirm their worst assumptions?"

He laughed, jolted out of his almost doze by her question. "I have had four days sleep since I last saw you, so I am afraid that is the case. However, if you would care to join me for dinner tomorrow? Then, we can do our best to debauch ourselves and disgrace my symbiote."

She chuckled.

* * *

A few days later, Ba'al was sitting in the archeology department and listening to Daniel explain their recent missions. "So, you basically angered these supposed spirits. Then, you – or, rather, your government – made them even more angry by ignoring the dictates of the local people?"

"Yep." He turned a page in his journal and continued translating the artifact he was examining.

"Then, your NID decided that it would be a wonderful idea to steal technology from a species that you were going to negotiate with?"

"Again, yes."

Ba'al shook his head. "How did the Tau'ri ever survive past discovering fire?"

Daniel snorted. "I believe I speak for all of humanity when I say that is an extremely prejudiced question."

"It was not meant to be derogatory. I am simply amazed." He ignored Daniel's skeptical look and began playing with a tablet. "You do know that this is a count of birthed piglets in the Theb-ka sepat, over the course of three years?"

"Well, yes, but the birth rate in a district can give us substantial clues... Did you say piglets?"

He smiled. "Piglets. Unless you think that your average woman on the Nile was birthing four to eight at a time? I'd imagine that Egypt would have overrun the world, had that been the case."

Jack came in, announced he had a problem, and all hell broke loose.

* * *

"'The place of our legacy.' To pass on their knowledge. Jack may have the knowledge of the original Gate Builders downloaded into his brain." Daniel managed to somehow look both excited and worried.

"They called themselves the 'Lanteans.' To my knowledge, Daniel, they were gone long before your Roman civilization stopped scratching in the dust." Ba'al eyed the Colonel. "However, I have been wrong on other occasions."

"Ego indeo navo locus."

Daniel blinked at Jack. "'Ego' means 'I.'"

"Indeo." Jack was apparently patient enough to repeat his statement word for word until Daniel translated it.

"Need."

"Navo."

"New."

"Locus."

Daniel reached for his books, but Ba'al stopped him. "I believe he means a new location."

Sam met Jack's eyes. "Where do you want to go?" Jack shook his head at his own ignorance and she sighed. "I need to get back to the computer. Though, I really wish you could explain this." She gestured to the chalkboard and the equations written on it.

Jack handed her a piece of paper. On it, Ba'al knew, was simply, '10 = 8.' He had already realized that it referred to base-8 math, but he waited to see if she would figure it out. He didn't want to take the minor challenge from her and, as there was nothing there that would solve Jack's problem, he saw no reason to.

Sam grabbed a piece of pink chalk and scrawled out a few numbers. "Ten equals eight. Sir, this is base-8 math."

Ba'al smiled. "Quickly realized, my Queen." He glanced at the colonel. "Why don't you take Jack to his appointment and I'll do the conversion for you?"

Sam nodded and the three left to meet with Janet.

* * *

The briefing later was possibly one of the shortest that Ba'al had ever watched. Sam and Teal'c were going to investigate a world with more writing, while Jack and Daniel were going to continue translating the Lantean dialect. More interested in learning Lantean and trusting that Sam could keep herself safe, he volunteered to assist in the translations.

The three of them did see SG-1 off, then returned to Daniel's office to work. They made slow progress and it was further slowed by Jack pausing to mention that he needed to go through the Gate. Not that he knew where, he just wanted to go.

Jack, unable to effectively communicate and restless, had decided to use their next break to start building a crude looking machine. Ba'al tentatively identified it as a power source... He was fairly certain that it wasn't a bomb, at least. The circuits were incredibly far ahead of anything that Earth had seen previously, in spite of the crude materials. Even Ba'al was internally drooling over the design.

He watched Daniel leave to speak with Hammond and but continued to watch the process. When he returned, he filled them in on the problem with SG-1. Ba'al was furious. "My Queen is in danger and no one thought to tell me?"

Daniel slid the tape into the player. Ba'al frowned, pulled from his rage as he debated the problem. He watched Jack pull out a roll of paper and start working. Every now and then, he sharpened a fresh pencil and passed it to him. From what he was seeing take shape, they were detailed plans of the Stargate and DHD. Ba'al willingly admitted that the developing plans were more detailed than his knowledge of the device.

He was glad when his symbiote began controlling his emotions. He had no ship near enough to retrieve the team, and the location was in Cronus' domain. He knew, if he were left to his own devices, that he would be either raging, a weeping mess, or starting a war. He didn't want his allies to see him in either emotional state, and he had enough on his plate without making an inadvertent and ill-advised power play.

He was left his worry, however.

The moment Jack finished, they threw the plans through the Gate. It disengaged and then – rather quickly – an incoming wormhole was announced. He wanted nothing more than to rush to Sam the minute she came walking though, but he held back. He had to retain some dignity. If he didn't the locals might get the idea that he was easily controlled by using her.

They probably had that idea, anyway. But, he could try.

Instead, he moved over slowly and pulled his healing device. He started to repairing the damage to the people he'd come to care for. All the while, he was inwardly composing a speech to George about just how much more care her people needed to take when exploring. That he hadn't had much information on the planet was something he conveniently overlooked.

* * *

Ba'al eyed the address that the computer had just finished dialing. Jack was going through the Gate, but the System Lord was far more interested in just where he was going. Sam and the others were down in the Gate room, trying to persuade Jack to either stay or attempting to ensure that he understood that he might not come back. The Goa'uld wasn't sure.

Ba'al was calculating the coordinates and distance, even as Hammond and Samantha returned to the observation area. The nearby technician stated that they had 'lost' Jack. Ba'al leaned back. "Ida."

Sam looked at him. "What?"

"He has gone to the Ida Galaxy, or I believe that is what you call it. The Asgard are there." Ba'al leaned back in his seat. "They are many things, but they are not cruel. Assuming he found them, they will heal him and send him back."

Sam attempted and failed to re-dial. The power source was drained.

* * *

Jack slowly recovered from having the ancient database downloaded into his mind. He sat up and looked at the aliens around him. "Thank you."

"You are welcome." One nodded in an almost gentle motion.

"You understand me." He was surprised. Most aliens that were so different required a lot more effort to communicate with.

"We speak many languages."

He remembered Cimmeria and Daniel's descriptions. "You're the Asgard."

"You have heard of us."

He sat up more. "Only good things. Even Ba'al admits that you're pretty good people."

The conversation went well. Apparently, they had potential. He wasn't sure what their assessment was of the relationship with Ba'al, but they seemed to be impressed by his commentary on their being curious. He wasn't sure if it was due to his honesty, or his being willing to kneel instead of towering over them.

Maybe both?

* * *

As was becoming tradition when the group nearly lost a member, they were sitting on the sofa in Jack's living room. He had just finished relating his discussion with the Asgard. Ba'al had to laugh at his descriptions of the 'Roswell Grays.' "Well, you get along better with them than we did. I'm pretty sure that they would have destroyed all Goa'uld, if their values had allowed for it."

Jack grinned. "They said we could be the Fifth Race."

Sam, cuddled into her husband's side, sipped her beer. "That's just... I'm awed."

The Goa'uld smiled. "You should be. Or," he corrected himself, "if not awed, at least pleased. An alliance with them would put your planet in a place of safety when it comes to the depredations of my fellow System Lords."

Jack chuckled into his drink. "That's me, making friends and laying the groundwork for peace."

Sam snickered and her eyes lit up. "Oh, that reminds me. Ba'al is determined to send 'official notice,'" she glanced at him and rolled her eyes, "but you're all invited to a reception next week. We're going to be celebrating the marriage now that the red tape is all taken care of."

Jack looked at Ba'al. "Will there be beer?"

"I might even manage to provide some form of scorched meat. Though, I am sure it will never match the vulcanized mass that you served us earlier." He inclined his head at Jack. "I can but attempt to sink to your culinary depths."

"Hey!" Jack's shout was drowned out by the laughter of his team mates.

"Have you ever heard the word 'vegetable?'"

The rest of the team laughed harder as Jack pouted and glared at the teasing.

* * *

_I re-watched Reckoning part 1 yesterday - anyone else notice that Ba'al actually rolled his eyes when he turned to leave Anubis' company after being dismissed? It's quick, blink and you'll miss it. The conversation I'm talking about starts at around 35.00 and the eye roll is at around 35.45._

_Anyway, I'm not sure when or how it happened, but I somehow managed to pull a muscle in my shoulder/neck area at some point yesterday. I think it's called the trapezius? Weird name, kinda sounds like I'm joining the circus. Anyway, typing, moving, breathing – they all hurt. Ben Gay and Advil can only do so much. I'm going to try to have more for you tomorrow, though. Sorry this is so short. I just need to rest._


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer**

_Don't own. Tasty treats. Would like. Gimme?_

**Note**

_Okay, so part eight was pretty short. This is, too. I'm just... very tired and not really into writing the last several days. Dunno why, but it might be because of the heat. We have no AC, atm, and I mostly want to be distracted by an outside source..._

_I did, however, manage to break out the pastels and pencils and play a bit while vegging in front of Netflix. Made a decent looking cover, methinks. Not the best, but I never claimed to be professional. Sadly, I don't have a scanner. So, the cover you see was drawn, colored with pastel (marker for the black background), and then I took a pic with my hubby's camera phone. If I get to Kinko's any time soon, you can bet I'll put a better image of it up. This one doesn't do it justice._

* * *

**Part Nine**

The Hat'ak had several gathering areas. There was the throne room, the garden, their version of a cafeteria, and a few recreational areas scattered about for the Jaffa to relax in. The most seldom used area, though, was the banquet hall. Sam had gasped the moment she saw it.

The walls had that distinctive golden sheen of every Goa'uld ship. However, that's where the resemblance ended. In the middle of the hall was a massive fountain with Egyptian Lotus and assorted fish in it. Unlike the rest of the ship, the floors were tiled with large slabs of sandstone. The stone was polished to a mirror-shine, but still added the visual texture of a desert floor. Various potted plants were scattered at points around the walls. Draperies of olive, brown and gold, softened the room.

Massive trays of food were being brought in by dozens of Lo'taur. Jaffa were chatting with various SGC personnel and some of the jokes were quite ribald – if the furtive looks and snickers were anything to go by. Sam watched her husband chat with Hammond – how strange it was to consider him such! - and grinned when he rolled his eyes at some comment her General made. She glanced around the room and gave a sigh of... contentment.

Who would have thought that she would ever be happy on a Goa'uld mother ship? She certainly wouldn't have believed it before she met Ba'al. Yet, here she was, reclining on one of many oversized cushions. She was just letting the conversations wash past, enjoying the awed looks from people who would never have normally gotten to pass through the Stargate.

Siler, wide eyed and nervous, was listening to a Jaffa. If she had to guess from the gestures and rare overheard word, the beefy male was explaining how _not_ to get yourself shocked when working on the Stargate. She laughed internally. It looked like the poor man's reputation for injury had made it out into the galaxy.

Davis was talking to one of the many members of the ship's harem. That had been an interesting discussion with Ba'al. She couldn't get over the fact that prostitution was a 'needed' profession on ship. It was considered one of the many necessities for keeping a fighting force fit. Daniel had pointed out to her – when she'd come bulldozing into his office to ask him to translate the conversation – that many armies had carried their own camp of prostitutes that followed along behind. Even cities in the Middle Ages had designated red light districts. It wasn't until the modern era that 'morality' had created a complete ban on the practice.

According to Ba'al, some women were just... born to fit the role, and some men were not meant to marry. He'd seemed not the least discomfited or uncomfortable with the idea. It was, though, an all-volunteer group on his ship. She wouldn't have, but she supposed she could see why others might: relative luxury and carnal pleasure without any stigma attached.

Janet and Namzu were chattering away off to one side. The Jaffa were giving them a wide berth as they tuned out the rest of the room. Considering their profession, she was pretty sure that she didn't want to know what they were talking about. There were just some things that you didn't discuss with food in front of you.

Her father was openly gaping at Teal'c. Every now and then, he'd glance over at Ba'al and lean in closely to ask something. She knew that lean. Her father was asking if he were sure about something. She had no doubt that he – or at least his symbiote – was still trying to get over a Goa'uld being anywhere near friendly.

Speaking of friendly, Babati was having quite the conversation with Garshaw. The Tok'ra and host were obviously quite amused by what the man was saying. She never would have thought that a First Prime could have a sense of humor – after all, Teal'c made stoic an art form. Babati, however, had a never-ending supply of jokes, quips and other humorous commentaries locked in his mind. He never failed to share them. At least, he shared them in private with his Lord and Queen or with those who wasn't officially in his chain of command.

Her eyes searched the room. Yep, there was Jack. He was slipping in and out of groups, trying to avoid Nidna. Nidna was doing the same thing, with the aim of catching up to him. The whole situation looked like a cat stalking a mouse, though with less-fatal intent. Nidna, she knew, wanted to quiz the colonel on his recall of ship's systems.

General Hammond was having what appeared to be a delightful chat with Lantash and Jolinar. Her commanding officer would make a comment, one or the other would say something in return, then the group would laugh. Every now and again, their discussion turned serious. Still, they seemed determined to enjoy both the party and the company. It wasn't a day for tactics and war, after all.

She nearly laughed when she saw Daniel and the rest of the archeology department. They were all clustered in one area and had somehow dragged poor Sidu into the conversation. He looked like he was afraid they were going to suck his brains out his ear! His eyes kept darting around, looking for escape, only for him to be asked a question that he had to answer.

She smiled at Ba'al as he settled next to her. "Sidu is panicking."

The System Lord smirked. "It will do him good to learn to extract himself from such a situation."

She scooted closer and leaned her head on his shoulder. "You're just enjoying watching him squirm."

"That as well." His face was impassive, but there was laughter lighting his eyes.

She watched several of the SG teams moving around. They were trading fighting tips and tactics with the Jaffa. "Did you ever think we'd do something like this?"

He shook his head and settled more comfortably into the pile of pillows. "If I had hazarded a guess... Even a year ago, I would have been certain that we would have been enemies. Quite probably, we would have been fanatical nemeses."

Sam nodded. "Yet, here we are."

"Indeed."

Sam knew that the General hadn't expected anything like this when he'd demanded a reception. He'd probably thought one night of cake, maybe some dancing. Goa'uld, though, partied _hard._ She supposed it shouldn't be a surprise. When you live for eons, what's a week long celebration here and there?

The week passed, faster at some points than at others. SGC personnel moved freely between the base and the ship. Anyone too drunk to stumble through the event horizon on his or her own – and there were quite a few – were plopped into guest rooms. Sometimes in the most amusing combinations. She was fairly sure Colonel Makepeace hadn't expected to wake up to Daniel drooling on his chest. The machinations of the various residents of the ship resulted in a large number of arguments and at least one new couple.

Especially since the Jaffa and Lo'taur seemed to believe that everyone should sleep naked.

Seeing Jack slinking down a hallway with only a small pillow for coverage? That was laugh inducing. Watching him blush when one of the harem members laughed and patted his exposed rear? That was hilarious. Hearing him ask random people to please point him to his pants? That was priceless.

* * *

Sam collapsed gratefully onto Ba'al. He frowned. He looked from his book on developing psychic abilities to eye her. He set it aside. "I believe that this so-called instructional work that Colonel Makepeace gifted me with might be better filed as fiction. It does not resemble any methodology that I have previously seen."

She gave a tired laugh. "You already know that I think that the psychic stuff in humans is nonsense."

"Mm." He wrapped an arm around her. "Only in humans?"

She nuzzled into him. "I've seen too many aliens now that can do weird things with their minds. They just have a higher functioning level than we do."

In spite of having seen humans do many of the same things, he decided not to argue. "You seem tired."

She snorted. "We sent Apophis to Sokar, nearly killed two alien races by accident, and Ma'chello tried to kill you. Oh, don't forget the kid whose 'mother' managed to drive us crazy as we ran all over the base trying to figure out what the heck was going on. Then, there was winding up in the sixties. Of course I'm tired."

"I suppose that I would be, as well. Perhaps, your General will allow me to take you all on a much-needed vacation when your next mission is over." He stroked his fingers through her hair, and she almost purred into the soothing touch.

"Where did you have in mind?" She lightly scratched fingers into his hair and down the back of his neck, enjoying the slight raspy noise that his symbiote emitted using the host's vocal cords.

"Ah... I have a few planets that have celebrations coming up soon." He smirked. "If Jack can stand being at a feast in my honor, they throw magnificent parties."

"You two will never stop tormenting each other, will you?" She stood and started changing into her night clothes.

Ba'al shrugged. "It is amusing. I do try to keep from being too... mean? I believe that is the term?"

She laughed and settled down next to him again. "Yes, it is."

He ran a hand down her back. "You do have 'vacation time' after this next mission, correct?"

"Mm."

He glanced down and sighed, then carefully tucked the covers around them both. "Always falling asleep on me."

* * *

Ba'al stared at the General. Hammond stared at Ba'al. "You don't know where they are?"

"Neither do you."

"I'm not their commanding officer."


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer**

_I do not own this. I repeat: I do not own this. If you think I do, then you need medication._

**Note**

_The notes here are from when I first started writing this particular chapter... a month ago? Two? Somewhere around there. Mom was in chemo for the day. (It's an eight hour process, for those who don't know.) Anyway, I typed up what I had written and then forgot about it for a while as there were some major medication changes. When I'm typing up a chapter, I frequently write the notes as I go and then trim them down to exclude things adequately commented on in the text. So..._

_Original note:_

_I went and watched Stargate: Continuum for the first time on Sunday night. Yes, I know: What kind of Ba'al fan am I? How could I have waited this long? I'm the kind of fan that has had other things on her mind and has been waiting a damned long time for her husband to sit down on his rear and watch it with her. Didn't happen, so I went ahead and did it by myself. Finally._

_I promptly fell in love with him all over again._

_So, I give you... Out of Mind and Into the Fire..._

* * *

**Chapter 10**

The first thing Jack noticed that he felt was _off_ in this supposed future of Earth was that no one – _no one_ – mentioned Ba'al. Sam, Daniel and Teal'c? Yes. Ba'al? No. They mentioned the Tok'ra, but no one else.

If anyone could have come up with a way to defrost him safely, it would been Ba'al. Hell, even if he had gotten Sam killed, he had no doubt that the cranky snake would have stuck around long enough to do it. If only to take his entirely justified anger out on him. Or, he would have blown up half the planet. Either way, his not being there – or even mentioned – was a very, very big clue that there was something wrong.

The second problem was the questions. Anyone that had read the mission reports would have known everything they asked him about the Nox and the Asgard. He probably would have noticed that discrepancy more quickly if it hadn't been for the drugs they'd pumped into him. Still, he did notice.

* * *

Sam was baffled. How could they not know that Apophis was dead? That was... How could they not know? If they were running any kind of a war, that was important information. The rest of their answers made sense, but they were far too rehearsed. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

* * *

Daniel was a little slower on the uptake. He wasn't a military mind. He'd never pretended to be. Still, he eventually did have to wonder how they couldn't know the Goa'uld he was aware of. He'd meticulously documented everything!

If only his head were a little clearer, everything might make sense. Maybe when the drugs wore off...

* * *

Teal'c was less than pleased that SG-1 was gone. To be honest, despite his relatively stoic facade, he was furious and grief-stricken. He knew little of what had happened. Horus guards and Serpent guards didn't work together at a whim, though. They barely got along at all. If only he knew where the link was.

He had to find the rest of the team. He had to get them back. They were comrades in arms. They were family.

Ba'al showed up less than ten minutes after he woke. He was privy to quite the conversation between the System Lord and General Hammond. Ba'al was... the kindest term was irate. His voice echoed down corridors, and the former First Prime was honestly amazed that he didn't physically strike the General when he refused to 'commit any more resources' to finding the others. He had to admit, the sheer venom in his tone and choice of words was impressive. Shame and regret repeatedly flashed across the general's eyes.

When Teal'c declared his intent to return to Chulak, Ba'al offered to take him to his ship instead. After a quick conversation, it was agreed that he would take the gate to Chulak and Ba'al would meet him there. Teal'c hoped to gain information and support from his fellow Jaffa. Hopefully, Ba'al would be able to recover some rumors from his own intelligence network.

* * *

Jack was a bit better at hiding his unease than his captors would have expected. He was able to fool them long enough to subdue his guard, sneak out, and free Sam. On noticing what she was – or, rather, wasn't – wearing, he had to fight down his own discomfort. It was yet another unwelcome reminder that she was an attractive female. He ordered her to take her guard's clothes and turned to give her privacy.

When she indicated that she was ready, they quietly searched the halls. They quickly made their way through the facility, picking up Daniel on the way. It wasn't until they were in the fake Gate Room that they discovered Hathor. He was honestly disappointed that some other Goa'uld hadn't already killed her, though part of him had always wanted to do it himself.

Her offer was... not the best one that they'd ever had. He didn't want to become a host to a parasite, and he knew his team felt the same way. He delayed as long as he could, hoping against hope that someone would ride to the rescue. He kept praying that a real SG team – or even Ba'al – would crash down the door and carry them away. They didn't, and he was forced to admit to himself that their luck might finally have run out.

He could have done without the eventual zat blast, and Hathor's "tender mercies" left something to be desired. They were, he thought, a literal pain in the neck.

He put all he had into fighting for control of his own body, even as he heard the gunshots in the distance. The Tok'ra's attempt to help was... Well, he hoped it worked. He wasn't too crazy about the idea of being frozen again, though.

* * *

Chulak was a disappointment in some ways and a joy in others. He had found Bra'tac. The elder Jaffa was injured, but alive. He'd been attacked by the remainder of Apophis' guard. According to him, the others were afraid that Klorel would return.

He was disgusted. Where was the pride, the strength, of the Jaffa? Where was the honor? Did only cowardice remain? This could not stand. He set out, quickly found a local girl, and demanded the attendance of the other Jaffa at Bra'tac's home.

* * *

Sam and Daniel fled towards the Gate at Makepeace's command. She wanted to argue, to go back and rescue Jack. But, he was right. They had to keep the Gate secured or none of them were going home. Shortly after arriving, though, they were fleeing _from _the Gate. At least the Jaffa weren't known for their precision marksmanship. With the lack of cover, any halfway-decent Marine sniper would have killed them all before they got to cover.

The staff weapon did seem to lend itself more to a 'spray and pray' philosophy. If the targeting issue was a weakness inherent in the weapon, why put one on a turret? There were so many more accurate options... She shook her head and forced herself back to the present.

She felt a surge of joy when she realized that Makepeace had led them into a Tok'ra tunnel. Ba'al had integrated many of them into his network, so there was a good chance that he would know where they were. There actually was hope of further reinforcements. Remembering the eventual numbers he'd mentioned once, she put the likelihood at around 77-79%.

Of course, reinforcements were useless if they couldn't get to the Gate. The force field was unusually strong, she noted. Then, their radios picked up a signal, interrupting her train of thought for the moment.

* * *

Bra'tac gave him as close to a rousing introduction as the Jaffa ever could. Teal'c stepped out to address the crowd, putting all his passion into his speech. He stretched the truth a little. He wasn't actually there to watch Apophis die. Still, he felt it was worth the exaggeration.

He still convinced a less than a dozen people, one of which was Hammond. The other was Ba'al.

* * *

Sam had never been so happy to see a Tok'ra as she was when she snuck back into the false SGC facility. Jack was saved. He wasn't a Goa'uld. Of course, then Hathor showed up again. Sam was really, really wishing she had her own kara kesh when the System Lord started torturing her. Fortunately, Jack tossed her in the vat of... Sam thought it might be liquid nitrogen.

She quickly filled Jack in, holding him the entire time. She'd been so afraid she was going to lose one of her dearest friends! Separating after a few minutes, they took note of the Tok'ra's advice. The pair hurried to destroy the generator. It took little time to find and set their explosives. Soon, they were on their way back to the Gate.

Sadly, their SG teams had been taken captive. Jack, in the way that only he could, decided to buy some time. It might have worked, too, if he had actually learned to speak Goa'uld. The Gate activated right in time.

* * *

One 'needle threader' – a ship that terrified Hammond when he realized what it was for – was supplied by Bra'tac. The dozen gliders that swooped down from the Ha'tak that had just entered orbit were commanded by Ba'al to enter the battle. The System Lord himself came through the Gate with the ground forces: a mixed group of Teal'c's few Jaffa supporters and over a hundred of Ba'al's own Jaffa. He kept in contact with his ship via an odd little earpiece that he claimed he'd modeled off of Earth's bluetooth technology.

It was not a normal tactic for the Goa'uld to join their forces at the front, but Ba'al needed to sate his anger somehow and he didn't expect or ask for prisoners to 'question.' In fact, he casually stated that he expected no prisoners. Babati and Bra'tac were all too happy to comply with the semi-order.

They swarmed out of the gate in the wake of the aircraft and overwhelmed Hathor's Jaffa with sheer quantity. It was rather difficult to fight back when you were easily outnumbered ten to one. Ba'al allowed himself to be distracted, a bit, by the opportunity to use his kara kesh to kill the Jaffa in the most ornate armor. No one complained or commented when Trofsky's corpse finally hit the ground, blood pouring out of his ears and nose.

Ba'al's movements were feral, predatory in a way that Sam wasn't used to seeing from him. He had forgone his usual longer coat or robes in favor of a sleeveless breastplate that greatly resembled studded leather armor. He wore leather pants and knee boots. Kara kesh on one hand and a razor-sharp sword in the other, he looked like a warlord or, ironically, a pagan god. She was starting to understand why primitive cultures would think him one. Ignoring the leather outfit, though, Ba'al was still one of the most welcome visuals Sam had had all day.

Ba'al took note of the smoke in the distance and ordered his warriors to secure and destroy the facility, rescuing the Tok'ra inside if possible or retrieving her body for honors, if not. Hathor, he sneered, was to be summarily executed if they found her. There was no hesitation. They scrambled to obey, furious at the attack on their Queen.

A few remained behind to secure the gate, Namzu amongst them. The healer quickly beginning triage for any injured. It was a bit jarring to see the normally pacifistic male wearing armor and carrying a weapon in addition to his healer's kit. It was almost like imagining Ghandi wielding an Uzi or Mother Theresa ordering a nuclear strike.

Orders given, Ba'al sheathed his sword and moved to stand before her. She could smell him, he was so close. Spices, leather and the ozone smell of a discharged kara kesh tickled her senses. She resisted the urge to bury her head in his chest, knowing that he wouldn't appreciate it in front of his men.

He lifted his right hand to lightly brush the back of his fingers across her cheek. At that contact, tension seemed to leach out of his body. In contrast to the rage-fueled commands he'd snapped out just moments earlier, his voice and gaze were gentle. "My Queen."

She let her eyes drift shut and leaned her head into the touch. It had been a very long day, but at least she remembered to use the proper title in front of his Jaffa. "My Lord."

"Are you ready to go home?"

When she nodded, he wrapped a protective arm around her and headed back towards the others. Her gaze slipped past a relieved Hammond and over a just-barely smiling Teal'c. She looked beyond a wincing Daniel – being treated by Namzu and fussed over by Jack – to recognize that he was leading her to the DHD. The Jaffa quickly cleared the ramp as their Lord started dialing.

"Sam?"

She nuzzled into his shoulder as the wormhole engaged. "Yes?"

"Remind me to apologize to your general later."

Part of her wanted to know. The rest of her decided that she definitely didn't want to get into whatever argument they'd had while she was gone. She had a feeling that she'd end up either screaming at Ba'al and Hammond or at least disappointed in her chain of command. Instead of inquiring further, she nodded. "Okay."

They slipped through the Gate, just as Ba'al's Ha'tak began a bombing run.

* * *

Sam slept in the infirmary. No apparent damage or not, Janet had wanted to be damned sure that she was all right before releasing her. Sam wanted to argue but, one look at how Ba'al and Namzu seemed to be gearing up to side with Janet, and she'd backed down. It really wasn't worth the fight.

This morning, though, her eyes blinked open and there was Ba'al. He was sitting in the most comfortable of the uncomfortable infirmary chairs, reading a dog-eared paperback. A glance at the cover of the slim volume had her chuckling. "I don't really think you need to read that."

He quirked an eyebrow at her, lips pulling up into a smile as he passed her a glass of water. "I was told that _The Prince _is a Tau'ri classic. I'm rather enjoying it. Machiavelli is – or was – rather insightful."

She snorted, then paused to sip the room temperature liquid. "It is a classic. But, you don't need to get any more ideas than you already have. Besides, his other writings indicate that it was originally intended as a semi-satirical indictment of the ruling class, not a manual."

He shrugged and decided to let the conversation pass. Satire or not, it was almost a complete guide to the way most Goa'uld thought. He brought her attention to the tray on the bed table. "One of the nurses brought breakfast by a few moments ago. I understand that it's rubbery powdered eggs and brunt toast, today."

Sam wrinkled her nose. "Do you think Janet will let me get away with ignoring it and eating when we're out of here?"

"Well, that depends. Sit up and let me take a look at you." Janet walked over and popped her stethoscope into her ears. A few minutes of heavy breathing and an annoying penlight later, they were making a beeline for the surface and the nearest diner. Sam couldn't wait to get something into her stomach.

They had settled in an isolated booth, and were halfway through their meal, before she felt like speaking again. "So, is there going to be any fallout over this?"

Ba'al shook his head. "Very little, with the steps we've taken. She lost her power base years ago. The worst that's going to happen is that one of the others might be concerned about why I keep disposing of our kind. Less of a concern for her, personally, and more of a worry that I have plans to take over our... group."

Sam had no trouble deciphering his meaning, but she was glad that he was being careful of accidental eavesdroppers. "Don't you always?"

He smirked. "Of course. They just will worry about how immediate those plans are." He frowned. "I persuaded O'Neill to report that he had only seriously wounded her, by the way. Officially, my men finished her off."

She eyed him. "Does the general know about this?"

He nodded, and swallowed some coffee. "The general, Jack, and the two of us. No one else is to know the truth. Otherwise, the others might get a little... more testy than we'd like."

She sighed, but nodded. Hammond was probably going to tell the president, and that would probably be about it. An image drifted across her mind and she smiled. "So, about that leather you were wearing yesterday?" He cocked his head and she continued. "What would it take to get you to wear it again?"

He flashed her a wicked grin. "And if, while wearing it, I demanded that you kneel and call me your God?"

"I suppose that depends on the setting and activities," Sam gave a teasing smile.

* * *

_Well, so much for the Protected Planets Treaty. Seems like S3E3 is going to be a moot point. Or will it?_

_You don't want to know how much time I spent trying to figure out how to insert Ba'al without it being a cliched 'runs to the rescue'/'knight in shining armor' deal. I mean, c'mon, how do you do that with these two episodes? It's close to impossible, since that is basically what it amounts to. Teal'c and Hammond did it in the show. Now, it has to be Teal'c, Hammond and Ba'al._

_I would have sent him off to try and gather intelligence until it was over, but... He's had enough of an ego bruising from the Jacob thing. He needs to come through for his mate once in a while._

_Finally, I remembered that Ba'al does have his surgical strike moments, but he does love explosions and tends to overdo it every now and then. He is a strategist, but he is a Goa'uld. That means that sometimes he'll resort to pure manpower instead of subtlety. Especially when he's really pissed off. An assault on his Queen? Guaranteed fury._

_So, what we wind up with is overkill. Sam can't view him as the ever-solitary 'knight in shining armor' when he has a literal army at his back. It becomes less 'rescuing the damsel in distress' and more competent military action. (For a long time in history, being a competent military leader meant having the bigger army.) It's still sweet and a rescue. It's just less going out there and showing off his own prowess as a warrior. Though, there is some of that._

_I keep drooling over that leather outfit..._

_I have a question about the alternate universes through the Stargate in Ripple Effect (S9E13). Obviously, it's not going to be for quite a while. However, when I get there, does anyone want me to send this universe's team to the canon universe? I think it'd be amusing to see the look on the canon Dr. Carter's face to find out that she's married to Ba'al in another universe. Possibly more amusing if Ba'al is with them when it happens._

_On a side note, at this point in the series, the SGC thinks Apophis is dead. We know that he isn't, but they think so. Ba'al may or may not know. If he does, he isn't sharing. Either because he doesn't deem it important or – more likely – because he just hasn't gotten around to reading that particular report yet._

_English grammar/vocabulary tip for the chapter:_

_Leach – to make a soluble chemical or mineral drain away from soil, ash, etc - usually using water._

_Leech – a carnivorous or bloodsucking, usually freshwater, worm._

_Thank Google and the MW online dictionary for the definitions._

_New commentary:_

_RevDorothyL was right. I haven't posted anything in quite a while. So, I went and looked at what I had sitting on my computer and decided to go ahead and toss what I had of this chapter up. It's only about six pages instead of ten in OpenOffice, but I suppose it will have to do. I don't have the time to do my usual three re-reads and polish. It's a bit choppy, but I hope you all enjoy it just the same. I have another story that was languishing in digital obscurity that I'm going to pop up and the start of another one (which I may toss in as a challenge for other writers)._

_For those of you that have had a family member to care for – especially one on a half dozen to a dozen medications – I have a question. Have any of you found a program – not a phone app, but something free and for windows PC – that will help me better track her medications? Maybe one that pops up alerts for what I need to do and when? At the moment I'm reduced to spreadsheets and Google calendar. I'm constantly tired, as you can imagine, so remembering when and what I need to do is quite the hassle and I'm terrified that I'm going to make a mess of it. Help?_


End file.
